


Shipping hell

by AlexDoesFanfic



Category: Gotham (TV), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Shameless (US), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AUs, Angst, Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Slight Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 38,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexDoesFanfic/pseuds/AlexDoesFanfic
Summary: This is just a bunch of silly little fanfics that will probably only be one chapter each. Just a little thing to do when I'm bored. Will contain fluff and angst, maybe a little smut. (If I'm any good at it.) Hope you enjoy.





	1. Gallavich-"I think people hug at this point."

**Author's Note:**

> I started these on my Quotev account but decided I would move them over here, so hope you enjoy reading them and don't get too sad. :P

Mickey re-zipped his pants with shaky hands. The tattoos on his knuckles faded, showing exactly how long it had been since he had them done. The time that had passed and the man he had developed into. His van was warm and steamy after his very recent hook up with his old flame, Ian Gallagher. Mickey was anything if not classy. And when it came to reconnecting with Ian. he definitely was not apposed to sex in the back of a van while on the run from the police. He was really in no position to make demands, especially when it was Ian-fucking-Gallagher was dropping everything and risking his life to join him.

Ian smiled lazily up at him, reminding Mickey of the first time that they had gotten together in this way. Back in his childhood bedroom, trying their hardest to be quiet. It caused a slight pang in Mickeys heart because it reminded him of easier times. Like Mickey had never been inside or on the run, and Ian had never moved on with his life, and that they had never stopped... being them. Mickey's cigarette hung lazily out of the side of his mouth, puffs of smoke mixed with the humid air of the van.

“So... what exactly are you planning, South-Side?” Ian asked, his voice slightly uncertain and short. Not entirely wanting Mickey to leave but not wanting to admit to still having feelings for him.

“I was thinking.. Mexico. Why? You gonna come with me, fire-crotch?” Mickey took advantage of the calm atmosphere in their van. Bringing back the old nickname that Mickey had made-up when they had started. Ian smirked his signature smirk. His cocky, arrogant smile that made Mickey weak but that he’d learned to fight against. He’d had to, to stop from being hurt more than he had.

Ian paused. hesitated on his answer. His smile tilting slightly. It had been such a long time since he had been with Mickey. Since he’d felt the passion of their love. But… he was stable now. He had a new boyfriend, a new job. He couldn’t go back to Mickey now, he couldn’t revert back to his old ways. It wasn't healthy. The drug that was Mickey Milkovich was too intoxicating, too addictive. Mickey Milkovich for Ian Gallagher was like Frank for Monica. An unstable, compulsive man and his bi-polar, semi psychotic lover. Only a little safer. A little less toxic.

“Can’t. Boyfriend.” Ian’s short answer revealed his hidden feelings. As they always did. He used his short answers when he knew that a sentence or a conversation would change his mind. Affect his balance. The answer revealed what he had tried desperately tried to hide. That he didn’t want to move on from Mickey. That he wanted to leave with him but didn’t know how to throw everything else away and relapse on the Mickey drugs.

Mickey faltered in putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up. His hands shaking with the buttons, he had bought the shirt special for his reunion with Ian but he didn't quite like it. The light and (almost)happiness from his eyes begun fading. Of course. Of course Ian would have a new boyfriend. He knew Ian hadn’t meant it when he’d told Mickey that he’d wait. Though… half of him wanted to believe that Ian would. Hoped that he had meant something to Ian despite all of their past.. issues.

“…Dump him?”

Ian hadn’t really given much thought about having to leave his boyfriend. Something that he had thought of though, quite a lot since he had left, was Mickey. He’d fought against the feelings and the memories, but every night he would dream of Mickeys eyes and his dick-like attitude. Hell, he had gone to some low places. Slept with his denim jacket on more than one occasion. Despite trying to stabilize himself, he couldn’t get rid of Mickeys scent. Couldn't get rid of the lingering presence of Mickeys hand in his hair.

However, Ian was beyond fucking done with people deciding who he could be and what he should do. When he should take his meds that he didn't even want in the first place. Who he could date when all Ian wanted was fun, regardless how reckless. Where he could go. Who with. So, he had figured, Why in the fuck should he listen to everybody else, and not listen to himself. When he felt he was the only person making sense.

“Sure.. Mick. I mean, I don't think many people will be happy about it and I cant speak Spanish or whatever. But, sure, I’ll come with you.”

Ian was sure that, in the time that they had been together, had never seen Mickey quite as happy before. Not when he was getting married to Svetlana (Though that wasn’t really something Mickey was going to enjoy anyway, as he didn't really have a say in the matter.). Not with Yvgeny, though he was an excellent dad. Not even with Ian in the beginning, though that was understandable. Both Ian and Mickey stumbled out of the back of the van. Ian's shirt half tucked into his trousers and Mickeys hair tousled wildly. Mickey was trying his damned hardest to hide it, as he always had, but Ian could see the tears in his eyes. He was never able to miss Mickeys emotional outbursts (or in-bursts for that matter.)

“I know it's not really our "thing”, but I think people are supposed to hug at this point... You know, since I am ditching everything for you."

Mickey laughed at Ian’s offer, mumbling something under his breath about him being a ‘fucking asshole'. Which earned him a smile from Ian. Mickey approached hesitantly before practically falling into Ian's arms. His entire weight transferring to Ian. Collapsing, and for the first time in his life, showing emotion and letting somebody else be the strong one for once.


	2. Johnlock-"Why didn't you call me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets far too stressed dealing with a case and almost relapses before John comes home and calms him down.

This case was getting far too much, far too fast. The woman that had come to 221B with the case had been crying over the phone, there were several smoking bullet holes in the already abused wall, four nicotine patches on both of his arms and Sherlock's mind palace was on the verge of collapsing. He was currently laid on the couch, his foot rhythmically tapping over the edge and his hands balanced, still, in prayer position. His stomach rumbled violently, calling out for sustenance. It had been a while since Sherlock's last meal and the purple bags under his eyes were getting deeper and darker.

John was currently preoccupied. At work. Obviously. If John wasn't at work and was instead, in the apartment with Sherlock, he wouldn't be on edge, wouldn't be like he is right now. See, John wrongly thinks that he is pointless in the cases that he and Sherlock work together on, mainly because he cannot deduct like Sherlock can. He believes that he can't really do much of anything. But what John didn't realise was that he is the one that keeps Sherlock ticking. He feeds him when he refuses to feed himself, experiments littering the dining table. John drags him to bed, when its way past midnight and Sherlock is still typing away. Still working. Unable to turn off his brain. He even chips in, gives ideas here and there that just happen to move the case along and move Sherlock out of his slump and back into the swing of the case. Although, Sherlock would never tell John this because when John gets and ego, its hard to let that go.

Now, though, John wasn't here.  
Sherlock was ready to add another seven patches to his arm when he realised that John had revealed Sherlock's hidden stash during the Baskerville incident. He almost fell off of the sofa, running to the fireplace and throwing the skull from it. Muttering something under his breath that sounded like an apology before grasping his cigarettes and collapsing into his arm chair. Sherlock hesitated slightly before raising the lighter to his mouth. Pushing on it like a trigger till the flame appeared. Flickering and burning. Sherlock closed his eyes, the fire not meeting the cigarette yet. He tried his hardest but he couldn't get John out of his mind.  
Eventually, after roughly twenty minutes of debating with his own mind, Sherlock gave in. Setting down the lighter on the table beside him and leaning back in his chair.

Sherlock was startled awake by the door to the room flying open. The obvious heavy footsteps of John Watson entering their shared apartment. Sherlock sat bolt upright, eyeing John suspiciously as he put down his bags.  
"2:30? Y...you shouldn't be home until Four. You wouldn't be home early, there isn't any good reason to. Any logical reason you'd be home before four." Sherlock was rambling a mile a minute, trying to figure out why John was currently in the apartment and not at his desk at work where he is supposed to be. And attempting to distract John from the cigarettes on the table beside him. Despite Sherlock's rapid questioning, he was happy that John was here, if only to give him something to deduct. John had noticed the lighter and cigarettes and his eyes were drowning in pity.

"Sherlock..."  
"It cant have been somebody allowing you to come home. You would've preferred to stay. In fact you would've insisted. I know you aren't not sick." Sherlock leaped from his chair, rushing over to place his hand on Johns forehead. "Your temperature is normal considering your journey home. Your heart rate is normal and you aren't showing any signs of a fever or any other medical conditions. So what the he-"

"Sherlock!"  
John's captain voice pulled the air out of Sherlock's lungs and he stopped his rambling. Eyes wide and mouth open. John was sure that Sherlock had stopped breathing for a few seconds, at least. The shock of Johns tone echoing around the room.

"I came home for you, Sherlock." He stated, eyeing the table by the side of his chair. "Why...why didn't you call me?"  
"I was working... Yes. Busy. Must've called you at some point and forgotten." Sherlock excused, spinning around and cleaning the table of his cigarettes. Placing them back on the fireplace and finding the skull to place over it.  
"Mrs Hudson called after the fifth cup of Tea you asked her for. She was worried about you, you bloody idiot."  
Sherlock stopped his movements, turning to John and lowering his head. Sometimes he doesn't know when he takes it too far.  
"So was I, Sherlock."  
"Ah.." Sherlock faultered, smiling slightly and turning away to hide the blush blooming on his face. Stupid, stupid emotions. Sentiment. "Remind me to thank her later." He mumbled, retiring back to his chair.

John sat across from Sherlock in his rightful place in his own chair, his rightful spot in front of his consulting detective. Smiles on both of their respective faces. Sherlock misses John when he goes to work but he's not at liberty to say so soon in their relationship.  
"So... where were you? In the case?"  
Sherlock sighed, tension relieved. He had momentarily forgotten about the case. He leaned forward, his hands returning to their prayer like position and John edging closer. As if they were both telling a secret that nobody else would ever know. Sherlock eventually launched into his quite complicated explanation as to who killed the baker and why it was obviously not the customer.


	3. Phan-"Would you stop that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan and Phil are at an award show in their lovely sparkly suits and Dan is a little uncomfortable.

Dan wriggled in his chair, shirt buttoned all the way up and suit jacket wrapped tightly around himself. He was attempting to be subtle so that the guys at the table wouldn't notice how uncomfortable he was but he'd never really been good at being subtle. Though, Dan did love the sparkly suit he'd chosen for the awards show, He would literally rather be wearing anything else.

Dan swallowed back two glasses of wine rather quickly so that the night would be more bearable. He was some what tipsy but still uncomfortable as all hell. Phil, who was sat beside him trying to focus on the awards being given out, had noticed Dan's discomfort and questioned him about it in a hushed whisper.  
"What's wrong?"  
"The suit." Dan answered back, "It's too tight and it's itchy and really uncomfortable."

Phil smiled sympathetically and put his hand on Dan's thigh to attempt to comfort him. Dan calmed slightly, both due to Phil's hand and the multiple glasses of whine he'd had, but was still noticeably tense. Dan thinks that Liza Kosher may have won 'creator of the year' but it could've been Shane Dawson. All Dan could focus on right now was Phil's fingers dancing on his leg. Dan shuffled again for an entirely different reason.

Phil leaned into Dan's ear as if to whisper something so that nobody else would hear but he didn't say anything. He just stayed there, letting his breath fan across Dan's cheek, warm and distracting. That coupled with Phils hand still on his thigh and Dan was officially losing it. Phil knew what he was doing. This was most likely payback for Dan making him swear in their newest video and not doing what Phil asked when he'd said to bleep it out. Dan's excuse being that it was too funny to cut out and that people would probably find it really hot. Yeah, this was definitely payback.

"Phil.. would you stop that?" Dan squeaked out a little too loud so that PJ and Louise turned towards them in confusion. PJ was laughing instantly as if he knew what was going on in some weird psychic way. Louise just looked at Dan with that look that said 'this is so going on our awkward moments list right?' Dan just nodded and she turned back to the stage. Phil chuckled and recoiled in victory, concluding that it was probably enough torture for tonight and retreating. Now Dan was doubly uncomfortable.

Home couldn't have come sooner. Both boys agreed that they wouldn't be missed. Phil had also worked himself up by teasing Dan and had decided to excuse them both three quarters of the way into the night. They knew that they weren't nominated for any of the awards left to announce so nobody batted an eyelid when they both stood up, shuffling out of the room and practically running for an Uber.

Dan clung to Phil the entire ride home and they bolted towards the flat as soon as the car stopped. Phil gave Dan 'the look' and they were both in the bedroom in a few seconds.  
These suits, as lovely as they were, were more than ready to come off.


	4. Nygmobblepot-"I loved you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and Ed are back on the infamous bridge and Oswald explains his feelings.

Edward Nygma stood tall as he always does. His glimmering, greed suit still damp from the freeze he'd been subjected to for little over a year. His hand shook as he pointed the gun unsteadily towards the man that he used to call his friend. Towards the first man that he'd ever let his guard down around. Towards the Penguin.

"We swore we'd never come back here." Nygma called over the harsh crash of the wind between the two and the ocean beneath them. When the Penguin found out that Nygma had broken away from his deep freeze, he'd assumed, quite correctly, that Ed would come back to where he'd been frozen. To find answers. So, naturally, wherever Ed went, the penguin followed.

It all felt far too familiar for the both of them. So familiar that it sent goosebumps down their arms and a shiver down their spines. Penguin in the same position that he constantly found himself in. The end of the docks, shivering and betrayed. And Nygma, with the same gun that he'd shot the penguin with the first time they had found themselves here.

"Why did you freeze me, Oswald? That was very idiotic of you. Surely, you must have known that I would be free one day and that I would hunt you down. So, why freeze me?" Ed asked, his tone stiff and unwavering. A subtle crease forming in-between his eyebrows, just like the one that Oswald had noticed when they had first met.

"Because I didn't want to kill you." Penguin confessed. His fight and his resolve had both collapsed and he was tired. He'd been through hell and back and if he was being honest with himself, he was glad to see Ed, despite the circumstances that they were put under. After all, Ed was his only real friend. After a year of being through turmoil, when he needed a friend to lean on, he was almost relieved to see Ed's electric eyes staring at him. Even though he had to stare down the barrel of a gun to see them.

"I swear... If you tell me you love me again I will shoot you through the heart this time. We've been over this, Oswald. You aren't supposed to hurt the people you love!" Ed felt the sting of the words as they flew out of his mouth. He also realised how hypocritical he sounded. If you aren't supposed to hurt the people you love then he should've never put his hands on Kristen. But maybe he didn't love her after all.. or maybe, Ed didn't know what love was either.

Oswald simply shook his head, his arms wide spread in defeat. He was done fighting and it was plain to see.

"No, Ed. Not anymore. I loved you... before. You were alluring and charming without even meaning to be and I was, admittedly, blinded by that. I couldn't see the monster you truly were. I didn't want to. I did love you and you're right, I hurt you too. But all of this has made me realise that this life isn't for me. I don't love you anymore because now I know you, I can see you now Ed. In all of your toxic glory and... I don't want that. I don't want this life anymore, either. So, go ahead. Shoot me twice so I don't come back this time. You know me.."

A small tear escaped the confines of Oswald's eye as he poured his heart out to his... friend? Enemy? Murderer? All of the above.

Ed pulled Oswald close, one arm around his shoulders and the other one holding the gun that was lodged comfortably above Oswald's hip.  
"I loved you, too." Nygma whispered before firing two shots into penguins abdomen and pushing him into the sea. He wasn't sure whether or not he loved Oswald. But at least he died with a smile etched on his face as he disappeared into the abyss.

Never to be seen again.


	5. Sterek-"I can't believe I married you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek comes home to find his and Stiles house ransacked and Stiles not quite happy.

As soon as Derek opened the door he could sense that something was wrong. The coats that usually hung neatly on their pegs, intertwined, were now strewn across the floor. Drawers were pulled open, their contents spilled out onto the wooden floor and the lamp that lit the hallway was tipped and the light bulb smashed.

Derek was immediately on high alert as he walked through the house. He could smell Stiles and he really wished he couldn't in this moment because all he could smell was desperation and despair. Two things that worried him greatly and two things he'd only ever smelt on Stiles before and he really didn't want to think of that time right now. The night he'd almost lost him.

Cautiously, he approached their bedroom, careful not to be seen or heard by any possible intruders. He shakily opened the door to find Stiles curled up on their bed, the room itself was in shambles.

"Stiles?" Derek whisper/shouted. Stiles jumped off of the bed, obviously startled and attempting to hides his tears from the now even angrier, Derek. He hurried to wipe at his face with his sweater sleeve but did little to cover the evidence of his sadness.

"What happened? Who did this?!" Derek growled. Stiles cowered slightly, unnoticeable by anyone but Derek who tried to calm himself down. He never really had a filter when it came to people he cared about being hurt or upset, he never really had to think about other peoples feelings before. But seeing how scared he made Stiles almost broke Derek, so he tried his best to work on being calmer around Stiles.

"I..I did." Stiles answered, voice shaking. "I lost it." He explained, before erupting into another bout of tears. Derek was quick to pull Stiles to his chest and cradle him in his arms. A soothing had stroking down his back that always seemed to help Stiles focus and calm down.  
"Lost what, you idiot?" Derek laughed. Adding the 'idiot' on the end to attempt to lighten the mood.  
"My card."

Derek broke at that. He laughed, chuckled, giggled. Even snorted a little, which he would deny later. Stiles gave him a pointed look, tear tracks still staining his face and his arms folded in anger. Despite, Stiles' frustration, he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips from seeing Derek so happy.

"You.. You mean the card I got you for your 19th birthday?" Derek asked, wiping away his own tears.  
"It's important." Stiles insisted, huffing and stamping his foot. Derek had hand made the card, it had a silly little drawing on the front of the two of them holding hands and the note inside made Stiles happy every time he glanced over it. So, Yeah, it was important.  
\---------------------------------------------  
(THE NOTE (For anyone that cares):)  
To Stiles,  
You annoy the absolute shit out of me. But, you kinda make me happy too. With your stupid jokes and witty one liners and the way you seem to take joy out of watching me suffer in moments of embarrassment. I don't write sappy notes or love letters, so this is all you're getting. Your cute when you wanna be and your nerdiness is cute sometimes despite it being annoying the rest of the time. Happy birthday. Promise not to growl at you today.  
All the best,  
Sourwolf~  
\------------------------------------------------

"It's okay, Stiles. I know it's important." Derek reassured him, despite being embarrassed by the card himself. "I'll help you find it. God.. I cant believe I married you." Derek laughed again.  
This received a pillow to the face. Which led to a full blown pillow fight. Which... eventually, led to the retrieving of the stupid birthday card.

Derek cant believe he married Stiles, but in the end, he is so glad he did.


	6. Septiplier/Jelix-"Don't say that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter one here. This is quite basically Jacksepticeye, Markiplier and Pewdiepie having a conversation about their relationship.

Sean sat across from both men, his head in his hands and a strong sigh on his lips. They'd been sat here for ten minutes, trying to think of something to say but it seemed like nobody wanted to start. Instead, they opted for distracting themselves by looking over the menus six times, ordering food and at some point, thinking small talk was a good idea. Which ended shortly after the first, 'So, how's it going?"

Mark, quiet simply, looked sad and warn out. Like he hadn't slept in a week, which to be fair, wasn't really a lie. If the bags under his eyes were anything to go by. He shifted between looking at Sean, at Felix and at a wall. His hands fidgeting under the table. But aside from that he had managed to keep himself calm and unwavering.  
Felix was sat beside him, entirely different from his Youtube persona. He looked awkward and stiff. He sat stiller than the rest of them and for the first time in his life, he had nothing to say. No witty quip or one-liner. Just silence interrupted by the sound of his spoon scraping against his coffee cup as he stirred and focused on the movements.

So, Sean guessed he should be the one to get the ball rolling.

"Ok, to put this as delicately as I can. Mark, I love you, okay? It's just... I've started having feelings for Felix that I never expected to come across and now I cant ignore them. Discuss?"  
All three sighed at the same time but Mark was the first to respond to Sean's opening line.  
"That's fine, Jack." Mark lied, using Sean's online name so that it might be easier to talk about their issues.. It wasn't. "I just wish you had told me first, before I had to find out from somebody else."

"I know. I'm a horrible person." Sean laughed, defeated. Mark grabbed Sean's hand, the only contact that they'd had in weeks despite sharing a house and a bed, and shook his head.  
"No, you're not."

"Don't say that, Sean." Felix chipped into the conversation. "You're the best kind of person. The situation could've gone better but it's okay. It's not the end of the universe." Felix tried his best to comfort Sean, who felt immediately better due to Marks thumb rubbing over the side of his hand and Felix's stare that was unwavering.  
"Life is too short to dwell on relationships, Sean." Mark attempted both to comfort Sean and convince himself but his eyes betrayed him.

Jack wasn't sure of his feelings, anymore. He loved both boys to certain extents but could only keep one. He felt that maybe.. he and Mark had had their time and may need to move on. Find new, exciting things, And for Sean, Felix was both new and exciting. He had never meant, however, for this to go so badly. He had planned to break off from Mark when the time was right and start slowly with Felix after a few weeks. But everything had gone to the dogs.

Mark and Felix were both wrong.  
Sean was an awful person. Or at least he thought he was. In fact... he was now convinced, that he was the worst person at the table.


	7. Phan-"I'll take the couch."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumb Dan locks himself out of his UNI flat and gets on a train to Phil's apartment... at 3AM.

Dan shivered, his university jumper hanging on his shoulders and his arms wrapped stiffly around each other, attempting to keep in the little warmth he had. He rang the doorbell once again. And again, and again, and again. Each ring getting further away from a response and each ring making Dan feel a little colder.

He'd locked himself out of his dorm and his roommates were all either asleep or assholes that would be no help in getting him back in. So instead of going to the staff of the university and asking for a key like a normal person, Dan, being a responsible adult, got on a train to Phil's house at 3 in the morning without calling first. Dan's stomach started caving in on itself. He hadn't thought about the possibility of having to go back so he didn't bring enough money for a return train and Phil's apartment was a long walk in the dark from Dan's university.

Just as he began to lose hope and turn around to leave, a light flickered in the hallway. Dan heard the soft jingle of keys and the rattle of the door handle. Dan started panicking. He had no idea what to say and he also had no idea if Phil was going to be angry or not. He wasn't expecting Dan to turn up at his door and he had probably been asleep and warm and Dan should've never got on the train.

The door opened to reveal Phil. Haphazardly dressed with his hair facing in every direction and a frown on his face. His brows were furrowed as if both angry and confused as to who would wake him up at three in the morning on a Thursday. His frown immediately transformed into a smile, however, when he saw who it was. Which, of course, turned into a chuckle after hearing Dan struggle to explain how he'd gotten locked out of his dorm room.

Phil invited Dan in, who has never been more thankful to be out of the cold. Both of their feet rustled quietly in the hallway, so as to not wake any neighbours. Dan didn't want anyone else to be disturbed by his stupidity. Phil told Dan to take a seat on the sofa while he made hot chocolates for them both and found some blankets that he had tucked away from Dan's last sleepover at his. (They didn't do much sleeping, mainly just played Mario and drank all of Phil's coffee).

Phil carefully shuffled back with two cups of Hot chocolate balanced precariously in one hand and a duvet and pillow rested carefully in the other. Dan laughed and attempted to take the duvet but Phil pulled it away and handed Dan the cups instead.  
"I'll take the couch." He whispered. Dan tried to protest but Phil hushed him saying that there was no need for argument because Phil slept on the sofa most nights anyways. Dan nodded, said thank you about 50 times and went to bed. Phil's bed.

He drank the rest of his hot chocolate, shouting a 'goodnight' to Phil, before finally nestling himself in the confines of Phil's bed. He took the time to take in mind how much comfier Phil's bed was compared to the beds at his university. Dan could never sleep by counting sheep, so he instead decided to count the many cool things in Phil's room. His anime and manga collection. His stuffed toys that shouldn't be found in a grown mans bedroom. A mess of clothes and video games scattered over the floor. It may be a little untidy and off putting due to Dan's slight OCD, but it was so incredibly, undoubtedly... Phil.

In the morning, Dan woke up to the smell of pancakes and the soft glow of sun seeping through the open curtains in the bedroom. He knew it might sound a bit weird and sudden due to him and Phil only recently becoming friends, but Dan could really get used to waking up like this. So after greeting Phil and eating the best pancakes he'd ever tasted, he asked if he could move in, promising to pay rent.

Phil obviously said yes, thankful that his boredom and loneliness would be replaced by his wonderful, emo, sassy, sarcastic, hell of a friend.


	8. Destiel-"You lied to me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets angry at Cas and then everything's fine. Basically.

Dean paced back and forth in the small, run down, motel they were all staying at in the middle of Louisiana. Sam was sat on the end of his bed, running his hands through his hair and watching as Dean was pacing. Dean had had a few drinks to calm his nerves but it wasn't working as he was now steaming from the ears and near to destroying something.

"Dean, could you just sit down or something? You're making me nervous." Sam moaned, liked he always does whenever Dean got frustrated at something. Dean threw him a look which basically meant 'no' with a ton of expletives thrown in for good measure. After all, he wouldn't be his brother if Dean didn't angrily glare at Sam every two minutes.

"We just found out," Dean gritted through his teeth, "That Lucifer is back and at full power and we haven't seen Cas in weeks! He could be anywhere, Sam!" Dean stopped pacing, his eyes widening in sudden realisation. "Sammy... He could be dead. He could be lying in a ditch somewhere.. Dea-"  
Dean was cut off by a flash of light and a sudden, warm feeling behind him. Castiel always had a thing with standing too close and personal space. Always a little too close. Sam excused himself to get... Something (Dean wasn't listening). Sam didn't want to be there to witness what was bound to go down when Dean turns to face Cas. Turning to the angel, Deans eyes stayed emotionless and void.  
"You lied to me, Cas." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Cas' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't remember lying to Dean at any point during their friendship over the last several years apart from that incident with Crowley that they had talked over and forgotten. So he'd never lied. Possibly avoided the truth before in order to not hurt either boys feelings, but he had never lied. He couldn't lie to Dean, he was just plain bad at it.

"You told me you had it handled." Dean explained, calmly. Attempting to not lose his head. "That you'd be safe. Damn it, Cas! I was worried about your feathery ass! You can't just disappear and not call for weeks.."  
"My ass isn't... you were worried about me?"

Dean nodded, noticeably a little less angry that before. Now he was just relieved that his friend was back and safe. Mostly safe. Minus a few bruises and scratches that Dean would ask him about when the tension was lowered in the room. Both boys sat on the bed, Deans head in his hands as he willed back the tears that were threatening to spill onto his face. Cas gazed quizzically at Dean, trying to figure out what approach to take to this situation. He didn't want to rip their friendship in half because this was delicate.

Cas wrapped his arm half way around Deans shoulder, awkwardly, attempting to comfort Dean like he had for Cas so many times. After Cas lost his wings, Dean was the main person to help Cas through it. Dean chuckled dryly, thankful that Cas was trying to make up for upsetting Dean in his own.. less-human-but-somehow-still-comforting way.

"Thanks, Cas. It's no big deal, you just... scared me. Next time, just let me help. It isn't shameful to ask for help. My friends taught me that... you taught me that."


	9. Septiplier-"Maybe you didn't love me after all..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about the lack of Jack/Mark content an it made me sad. So, logically, I wrote some sad Jack/Mark content..

(A/N This is quite short compared to the others, sorry.)

Sean had searched back alleys, sidewalks, even restaurants and bars. Mark was nowhere to be found. They had had a little argument between their chicken dinner and glasses of Brandy that had spiralled into something bigger. Mark had inevitably walked out as he does when he and Sean have a dispute that gets out of hand.

Sean didn't think that what he had said was 'walk out' worthy, but everybody knew how sensitive Mark was due to the abundance of love he held in his heart. He gets hurt quite easily. God, Sean was an idiot. He shivered and shoved his hands in his pockets. Digging out his phone and tapping in Marks number, his fingers shaking both due to the freezing weather and Sean's nerves.

Straight to voicemail. Of course, no surprise there. Sean knew that he had been an awful person and he was the one in the wrong, but he was beginning to get worried. So when Mark finally picked up after around 10 attempts, Sean forgot about their argument momentarily until he heard Marks unamused voice crackle through the speaker.

"Sean?"  
"Hey.. Mark. Where are you?"  
"Where we first met."

Sean paused, silent and still. The motors of cars whizzing past filled the silence as Sean reached for what to say. He couldn't remember. Mark chuckled but he wasn't amused. It was a sad chuckle...like he had realised that their relationship was mostly one sided and it was breaking him. A chuckle that said that he had already given up.

"You don't remember, do you? The 'most important' moment of our lives, or mine at least, and you've already forgotten? How long has it been? Two months?"  
"Mark, just tell me where you are, I'm sorry."  
"Two months and you cant remember. Maybe.. Just maybe, you didn't love me after all.."

"Don't say that, Mar-" But Mark had already hung up. If Sean believed he was any slither of a good person before, Mark had now made him realise that he was definitely a bad person. Sean was definitely an asshole. The worst. What kind of boyfriend forgets the place that they first met. That their two worlds collide and that the sparks first started. The only way, realistically, to fix this was if he could find Mark.  
Sean pulled his hood over his head and blew warm air into his hands after planting his phone back in his pocket. He was ready now to search the entire city. Country if he had to. Anything to find Mark and make all of this better.

If only Sean wasn't such a forgetful piece of crap.


	10. Phan-"So, you...think I'm hot?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school Dan and Phil in a changing room becoming nerdy friends.

"God.. He is the biggest nerd in the school, I swear."  
This kind of conversation was not unusual in the boys locker room but Dan felt awkward as the guys chatted amongst themselves. He and all four of his football friends were stood in an almost perfect circle in the corner of the room, throwing glances and talking about the tall emo boy at the other end of the room who was minding his own business, really.

Dan glanced over at him, slyly. Curiosity was all it was. The boy was lean but not too skinny, his muscles were well defined and prominent due to running up and down a field all day. He was tall and.. well, fit. He was pretty good looking to be fair. It was no secret within the school and the football team that Dan was quite partial to a few guys here and there.  
"I don't know guys... I think he's kind of hot."  
The fellas scoffed, light-heartedly. They finished their dressing and mumbled something about how Dan should have a better taste in guys, to which Dan couldn't really argue about. He hadn't had the best relationship experiences in the past. But observing someone's looks didn't mean that Dan wanted to be in a committed relationship, he was just nice looking.

Every one had left at this point and Dan thought that he was alone until he heard a cough from behind him and spun around to see the boy from before. Dan was slightly startled, but chuckled non-the-less at the boys confidence.  
"Hi! I'm Phil!" Phil introduced himself, smiling wide. Dan furrowed his brows, confused as to why the boy would feel the need to introduce himself in a boys locker room after practice. He took Phil's hand despite this, introducing himself too.

"So..." Phil started, smirking. "You think I'm hot?" He asked, tongue poking out through his teeth and his eyes filled with pride in himself for making the popular boy blush. His cheeks filled with pink and red colours and Phil giggled in the shocked silence.

"No...I.. I just said that to like.. protect you from those guys. They...They think you're a nerd."  
Phil laughed out right, walking towards his galaxy bag and pulling out a large black case that was covered in stickers.  
"They'd be right." Phil told Dan, who was infinitely curious about the case in his hand and also slightly cautious as it could literally be anything. Like.. drugs. Although, Phil didn't really seem like the type to have drugs. Then again, the best druggies are those who hide in plain sight. Dan sighed, however, when Phil revealed the actual contents on the mysterious black, sticker-covered box.

Phil unclasped the box and pulled out two dusty, Nintendo game-boys and a large stack of Pokémon trading cards. Dan's eyes lit up as Phil revealed the extent of his nerdiness. Dan dropped his guard, noticing that they were alone, he allowed his real self to shine through. The nerd in his heart.

"Okay.. Maybe you might be a little bit hot." Dan confessed. He grabbed the Game-boy that Phil offered him and his plain black bag. Suddenly jealous of Phil's colourful accessories. He walked out of the locker room. Not with the football team. Not with his friends. But with the nerd instead. Dan hadn't considered before this revelation that he could even remotely associate with a nerd. But this guy was his type of nerd, anime and Pokémon. And.. well.. he was hot too, to be fair.


	11. Destiel-"Take your shirt off."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellas take Cas shopping for new clothes and Cas is a little embarrassed to get changed.

"All you wear is that Damn trench coat, Cas. We are buying you new clothes." Dean stated, his wallet in one hand and the keys to baby in the other. Already two feet out of the door. He was sick of seeing Cas in that trench coat despite how well he pulls it off. And it was turning summer now, surely buying new clothes is just logical.  
"Dean... you and Sam have barely enough money to pay for food, other than the credit card scams you've got going. Buying me clothes is hardly the biggest priority for us." Cas explained, a confused frown on his face. Dean looked in his eyes and nodded, pulling him toward the door.

"It is when we have to look at you." Dean chuckled, jokingly so as to not hurt Cas' feelings but attempting to stress the importance of new clothes.

\---------Time skip--------

The boys finally arrived at the changing rooms after around half an hour of browsing shelves and stumbling around the store, picking out a selective variety of clothes. Inevitably there was plaid in the pile, how couldn't they be when he was shopping with two of the biggest consumers of plaid in the country. Surprisingly, there was a lot of red and black. And less surprisingly, their was a variety of blue.

Cas glanced around, nervously, getting weird glances from other shoppers. He supposed he looked a little out of place. He turned back to Dean with a pleading look in his eyes. Dean took pity on Cas and grasped his coat sleeve.  
"Come on. I'll come with you." Dean sighed, taking the clothes from Cas' arms and dragging him into the changing rooms. Closing the curtain behind them.

When they finally got into the room, Cas removed his trench coat, much to Deans pleasure. He pulled off his suit jacket and tight but stopped in his tracks. Dean had never seen Cas in such a state of apprehension before, and it momentarily worried him before he decided that he knew what the issue was.

"Take your shirt off, Cas." Dean said softly, patting the man on the shoulder. Cas did as he was told, removing the material from his body and flinching slightly when Deans hand grazed down his back. The space between his shoulders where his wings once were, was replaced with angry red scars and lacerations. Bruises from the day his wings were torn from him.

"It's okay, Cas. We all have our scars." Dean reassured the fallen angel. Pulling up his own shirt and pointing out several scars from blades and bullet holes. The faded claw marks from the incident with the hell hounds and.. Cas' hand on his shoulder that pulled him from hell.  
"They all tell a story, Cas. Where we've been and the hardships we've faced. It shows people that we're still here... after everything. We're still here."

Cas smiled, throwing a faded blue polo over his head and admiring how it looked against his skin in the full length mirror in front of him.  
"You can go now, Dean. Thanks." Cas said, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see Dean nod and retreat through the curtain into the waiting area. Sam gave him a quizzical look as Dean sat beside him, Dean just held back a glare and waited for Cas to re-emerge from the changing room.

If a silly, stupid, catwalk fashion show took place after the serious encounter in the changing rooms, it would stay firmly between these walls. And Dean was fairly certain, the Cas looked heavenly in blue.


	12. Sterek-"I think we should stop seeing each other."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles arrives to tell Derek he doesn't think their relationship could last but Derek senses that something is wrong.

Derek heard the soft gravel on the path outside before he even smelt Stiles. A mix of anxiety and cocoa. He heard the gravel before Stiles knocked on the door. Which was weird because Stiles never knocks before coming in. He was always the brash type that barged in before asking for entry. It used to annoy the hell out of Derek when the first became friends/acquaintances, but recently it was Derek's favourite thing about him. That he felt so at home with Derek that he didn't have to ask to come in. The doorbell rang once. Lack of emergency. No pounding on the door that told him there was trouble but Derek was still worried because Stiles scent had changed from his usual concoction to... Sadness and... guilt.

Derek opened the door for Stiles, expecting a flurry of words and a hug that crushed him even despite his werewolf abilities, but all he got was "We need to talk." That's when Derek knew what was coming. Goodbye. He'd been through it before... he knew the build up, the aftermath, the many late nights that followed. Derek just never imagined it could be this way with Stiles. Never in a million years. Especially after all they'd been through.

Derek followed Stiles into the living room and sat next to him on the couch. He sat as he always did with Stiles. His arm resting on the back of the couch and his body turned towards his boyfriend. Only, this time, Stiles didn't fall into his side like he usually does. He shifted towards the other end of the sofa, feet pointed away from Derek. Stiles sighed, wiping his hands down his trousers and glancing at Derek apologetically, before returning his gaze to the floor.

"What is it, Stiles?" Derek asked, dreading the answer before the words left his mouth. Stiles figited, like he was trying to find the right words that wouldn't hurt either of them but he was struggling. Derek was about to stand up and start pacing like he usually does when he's stressed, before Stiles turned toward him with a determined look on his face.

"Derek... I think we should stop seeing each other." Stiles said in a confident whisper. Afraid to raise his voice but brave enough to say it. "I can't keep this up, Der. The constant battles we face together. Other people always trying to split us up. I can't live like this."

Derek sniffed, wiping at his tears before they surfaced. When Derek looked at Stiles again, he was shocked to notice what he had looked over every time he saw his boyfriend. Nasty, red gashes on his bottom lip. Bruises across his entire face and his eyes were... almost void.  
"I...I understand." Derek nodded, standing and walking to the other end of the room to hide his broken heart.

"Der..." Stiles moved to comfort Derek but he was met with a shrug and a mumble telling him it'd be better if he left. Stiles didn't fight it. He just left without another word. Leaving Derek to mourn over what would've been a break-up if Derek wasn't smart. Derek knew now that this wasn't a break-up because this wasn't Stiles. He just didn't want the monster inside his boyfriend to know what he knew.

When out of Derek's house, 'Stiles' smiled, his eyes unforgiving. He was ready for anything. Lydia was next.. then Scott. Estrange them all and then hurt them more when you come back and kill them. This plan was stellar. But Derek wasn't going to let this happen.  
Not again.


	13. Sterek-"Are you wearing lace?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott are discussing a new development in their newest investigation. And Scott sees something he could never unsee.

(This is less Sterek, more just Stiles and Scott on the subject of Sterek.)

Scott had only just showed up at the rendezvous that he and Stiles had set up last night. Shaded by the cover of the trees. To say that he was a werewolf (and a good one too.), Scott wasn't the fastest. And Scott never really had a sense of urgency to show up on time. So, Stiles was already there, leant against his jeep with his hands in his pockets and a slight (Very slight.) annoyed look on his face.

"Scott! Dude! This is the closest we have literally ever been to figuring out what the hell is going on here. You think you could get your wolf butt here faster in the future? My text said 'Meet me. Urgent.' I could've been dying. I could've been kidnapped and withering away. Show some enthusiasm."

Scott just laughed at Stiles ridiculous half rant and leant beside him, preparing himself for the hours long conversation about what was going on and why exactly they were in the middle of the woods. According to Stiles, this had been the last place that a murder had occurred that was similar to a few dotted around the town. Stiles was close to solving the case and was convinced that supernatural was involved somehow. It always was in Beacon Hills after they'd sent out that signal.

Stiles had moved to the trunk of his jeep as always, to collect some junk. Maps and tape and red string longer than Scott could imagine possible. Scott had followed as Stiles continued to ramble on about the case and possible suspects. Leaning against a tree, a few metres from Stiles who was attempting to unlock the trunk. As Stiles managed to get it open, he must've stretched in a way that lifted his shirt slightly as his arm reached upwards. A tiny bit of blue poked out from underneath his trousers, barely even noticeable in the darkness.

Scott practically died laughing. He struggled to form a coherent sentence for up to at least two whole minutes. Stiles was about to implode from the frustration of asking Scott what he was laughing at so many times. Stiles hated missing out on a joke or a secret. Stiles finally got the answer as Scott wiped tears from his eyes.. well, more of a question, really.

"Are you.. are you wearing lace?"

Stiles blushed but smirked non-the-less, quite proud of his "unusual" fashion choices. He'd picked out the pair this morning, hoping to surprise his boyfriend when he'd gotten home. There was an array of different colours but Stiles enjoyed this pair and, well...

"Derek liked them..."

Scott may have thrown up for at least half an hour at the mental image of his best friend getting it on with Derek...in lace. Stiles definitely wasn't going to let this go and neither was Scott, so both decided to just... shut up about it for now.

And Stiles' Cheeks were permanently red for the rest of his life.


	14. Gallavich-"I...I just wanted to say that I, uh, miss you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a while since Mickey and Ian had spoke but Mickey is drunk and Ian's phone number was the only one he'd remembered.

13 cans of beers downed and Ian's army jacket hanging on his shoulders, Mickey reached for his phone... against his better judgment. He'd even left his phone on the cabinet beside his bed, switched off. Just so he wouldn't be tempted to call.

The phone beeped in his hands after hitting the call button and told Mickey to leave a message. Ian's usual cool, calming voice crackled through the speakers. Immediately leaving Mickey feeling cold and alone.  
"Hey, it's Ian Gallagher. I'm probably busy so call back if it's urgent. Like.. If there's blood involved."

"Hey, Ian. It's um.. It's good to hear your voice. Even if it is just a recorded message. Sometimes I get the feeling that you don't want to talk to me anymore. You do know, i'm literally risking my life for this phone call, right? The least you could do is answer. Yeah.. you don't care. Um, I went for a jog this morning. Reminded me of you, firecrotch. Sunsets. God, I hate it when I drink, I always get so fucking sappy. Professing my feelings and shit. I guess.. what I wanted to tell you is, um, well.. I.. I just wanted to say that, I, uh, miss you. Yeah, big, bad, south-side trash, Mickey Milkovich... misses your stupid, pretty face. You should call me back soon. Ill have to, uh, chuck this phone in a bit. Whatever. Seya, Gallagher."

Mickey let the call go on a few minutes before, finally, ending it. Letting his breath fill the line and waiting for a response that he knew wasn't coming anytime soon. He fell asleep shortly after. Clutching both his phone and Ian's Jacket to his chest. He woke up the next morning to the sun glaring through his bedroom window and a new message on his burner. A missed call.

A missed call from Ian. Mickey cursed himself for not staying awake to answer Ian's call. To hear Mickey actually talking to him for the first time since he left with Monica and since Mickey ran from the law.

-Beep-  
"Um, hey Mick. Hearing your voice was also... reassuring. Knowing that you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere. It's been a while, I know, but I'm getting my shit together. Just so you don't worry, like you constantly do, ill list the things I've been doing since we last saw each other. One, Taking the fuck ton of pills that I'm 'required' to take. Despite how God awful they make me feel. Two, I've been laying low with Monica for the last couple of weeks. Don't even question that because I don't know how it happened myself. She's got.. what I think is a boyfriend, that grows drugs in a trailer. But on the plus side, you can see the stars really well from here. And Three, though it pains me to admit it, I've been missing you like crazy. Don't worry though, south-side. We'll meet again soon. Remember I told you id wait for you? Well, I'm sticking to that. But just.. hurry the fuck up.. you know how impatient I get. And life with Monica is starting to suck... not like I expected anything less. Stay safe out there Mickey.. and talk to the moon... I'll talk back and we'll both be crazy."  
-Beep-


	15. Johnlock-"I'm not lying!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock can't lie to John anymore. Luckily, this lie was only small and the truth was the start of everything right in John and Sherlock's relationship.

"Sherlock! Did you take all the silver from the kitchen?!" John called from the kitchen, routing around in the drawers and cupboards in search of a spoon that he could stir his coffee with. In the end he resorted to a stray straw that he found by the sink.

Sherlock's head popped around the door from where he'd situated himself in the living room. He had an innocent look on his face and a wide, Cheshire cat-like smile. His hair stuck up in several directions as if there had been a lightning storm and Sherlock was in the centre of it. Not to mention the obvious goggle marks around his eyes. John knew that he'd been experimenting.  
"Nope!" He said cheerfully.

Sherlock had gotten better with avoiding the truth. Not entirely lying but not really being honest fully. John had mastered the art of seeing through him though. They'd lived together for such a long time now that John knew when Sherlock was being honest.. he had to.  
"I'm not lying!" Sherlock almost sounded annoyed and quite offended at the fact that John would even accuse him of doing such a thing. But the more Sherlock's pitch got higher, the easier it was to tell that he was lying through his teeth.

Sherlock sighed, giving in. He knew that he'd never be able to convince John otherwise.  
"Fine. But you have to promise not to be angry and that you wont laugh when I tell you what I used it for." Sherlock yelled back to the kitchen, sounding like a petulant child. John tilted his head confused, but told Sherlock he wouldn't despite his confusion. Sherlock entered the kitchen awkwardly, already blushing up to his ears. His hands clasped sensibly in front of him.

"So... I condensed and melted all the silverware in the kitchen- which wasn't expensive any way- to mould it into a ring." Sherlock was already cautiously looking up at John through his eyelashes. As If he was scared that John would blow a fuse any second and make it so that this would be even more difficult to do.  
"I had to do that because, well, I don't have enough money to buy a ring and my darling brother wont help me even though he possibly has more money than the Queen. He never liked giving me money anyway-"

"Sherlock." John interrupted, smoothly. "What are you trying to say." John wasn't getting his hopes up but the way Sherlock was talking about rings and money, John was starting to wonder.

"I believed that what I was trying to say was obvious, John. I thought you were a smart man. What I am saying is that I need a ring to propose and that's why I needed to melt the silver."  
"Wait... propose?"

Johns eyes lit up but all Sherlock did was roll his. Never-the-less, both men were smiling brighter than ever in the years they'd known each other. Sherlock rounded the table to get to John on the other side. Dropping to one knee.  
"God, you are difficult, John Watson. The ring isn't ready yet, but since this conversation couldn't wait. Yes, will you marry me?"

"Fine, you bastard."

Tears.


	16. Gallavich-"When I look into his eyes, I see the end of the world."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Monica discuss their choice in boyfriends and why it possibly is and isn't a good idea to go back to them.

The sunset glared over the field where Ian and Monica had ended up, making Ian squint his eyes closed. The moon was just barely visible behind them as they sprawled out on the field and Ian smiled. Monica braced herself, beer in hand, for the inevitable conversation they were about to have. Whenever Ian was happy, it was unavoidable, he talked about Mickey. It was the same when he was sad or drunk or high. He talked about Mickey all the time.

Ian laughed. At the sun, at the sky... at nothing really. Monica laughed along, happy to hear the sound instead of crickets and silence. They both looked at each other, eyes screaming that they missed their others. But that they were happy to be together, despite all the static.  
"What do you think they're doing right now, Mom? Do you think they're happy?"  
"Oh, I don't know, honey. They sure seemed to be happy when I saw 'em." Monica replied with a smile that Ian could read in an instant. She was lying. Monica knew that without Ian, every body would be spiralling.

Lip needed someone to vent at when he lost control and fell for another girl that was no good for him. Fiona needed help with Liam and Debbie. Carl just got put in Juvie for Christ's sake. But Monica wasn't about to let that distract Ian from his good mood. Not when he'd been gone for so long.

"Do you miss Frank?" Ian asked, rolling over to focus on Monica and pick at grass and a single daisy in between them. The question, though it was simple enough, confused Monica. Nobody had really asked her that before but, I guess, she supposed she did miss him. Through all their hell together, there was love there too. Monica knew that Frank loved her, that he cared about her more than... a lot of things. He calmed her down when she was at breaking point. But, he was also her downfall.

"Do you miss Mickey?" She threw back at him, nothing intended but love and healing. Ian scoffed. Of course he missed Mickey. He didn't think he'd ever stop missing Mickey.  
"Yeah.. I do. But it's hard. It's like... he was never fully there but he always was. In the back of my head. Whenever he saw me... I'm guessing he saw fun. An escape. But... when I look into his eyes, I see the end of the world.. and that isn't healthy."

Monica pushed the beer in her hand towards Ian and stood up holding out her hands for Ian to take. He smiled up at his Mom, taking her hands and allowing himself to be pulled up. She spun him a few times till they were both laughing.  
"Screw healthy!" Monica shouted to the sky, hugging Ian tightly and whispering in his ear, "What ever happened to happiness? Why does everything have to matter so much?"  
"He's bad for me, Mom. Just like Franks bad for you."  
"But I loved Frank... despite how bad he was for me. I was happy. You can be too... Call him. I know you want to, I can see it in your eyes."

Ian did call Mickey that night. After several beers and a ton of weed. He called Mickey, high and drunk, because he loved him and he missed him. And he didn't care about image or the end of the world anymore. All he cared about was getting back to him. He knew the future would hurt at times, but he wanted to be happy too.  
Such a shame that Mickey never answered the phone.


	17. Malec-"Stay strong, Darling. Don't let them take you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty Alec and Magnus facing Valentine and not exactly winning... at all.

Sun glistened through the window to Alec's bedroom at the institute, glistening in his matt black hair as Magnus stroked his fingers through it. Alec's head layed on Magnus's chest, listening to his heartbeat pulse through the cotton of his shirt. This was a rare sight for the both of them. Alec without any malice or stress to weigh him down. And Magnus with no make-up or glitter covering up what Alec saw as plain.. striking, beauty. It was late morning right now and neither of them wanted to move or get out of bed. Too huddled in their own warmth and silence to want to move back out into the world. Especially on a day like today, when they had to face Valentine... possibly for the final time.

Alec was confident that this would be a quick job. They would go in, Jace and Isobel taking out the protection, while Alec and Magnus snuck in and cornered Valentine. They'd hold him up until Clary came with Jace and Isobel in tow. It was fool proof and it was going to work... it was simple.  
Magnus was less confident. He'd had dreams leading up to the fight like premonitions showing him the pile of bodies and Valentine standing at the top of the pile. Over and over. Alec and Jace and Isobel dying over and over and nothing that Magnus could do about it.

The plan... didn't work. Valentines people were too much for Jace and Isobel to handle alone. Magnus and Alec were cornered at the last second. They crouched together, protecting each other best they could but it was already way past too late for them. Magnus begged for Alec to be spared, Alec did the same for Magnus with his eyes. Too stubborn to beg even until the end. They did everything they could in the end to save each other but It was all for nothing.

Jace, Clary and Isobel were found and rounded up. There was no time for negotiation and Clary was portaled away immediately, Jace close behind her. Alec had lost all will now, thrashing against Valentine. Yelling to bring them back.. even Clary. There was a blur of bodies and blue light and in all of it, Isobel disappeared and Alec and Magnus were left alone. A rusty piece of jagged, metal pipe sticking out of his stomach.

Alec spluttered, blood pouring out of the sides of the wound. Magnus was at his side at an instant, his hands working their magic.. but they were already both so weak. Magnus was barely strong enough to carry Alec out of the building and into a nearby car. Alec was barely strong enough to keep his eyes open.  
"Hey.. Hey. Alexander.. Look at me." Magnus tried to keep Alec away so that he could work his magic fast enough to keep him alive.  
"Stay strong, Darling. Don't let them take you."  
Alec laughed and then winced in pain, his hands flying to Magnus' hair to brace for the pain.  
"You talk such rubbish, Magnus.. I love you."

"Don't. Don't do that, Alexander. I know what it is. Don't you dare think about saying goodbye to me." Magnus laughed, kissing Alec's forehead as his hands worked through muscle memory. He'd had to do this so many times but it had never been more important than this. Nothing ever had. Alecs eyes became more and more focused as Magnus worked quicker with his hands. Sparks flying through his fingertips.

"Magnus?" Alec coughed through his words. "Say it. Incase it's the last time. Say it!"  
"You aren't going to die, Alexander!"  
"Say it... please."  
"I love you."


	18. Gallavich-"Hold me, Please...I'm a whimp."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has a nightmare about his dad and Ian calms him down when he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will include homophobic language and physical abuse, which is implied to have happened between Mickey and his father, and brief mentions of sexual abuse implied to have happened between the father and Mandy.

Mickey crept through the front door of his own house. Avoiding every spot in the hallway that made the slightest creak. Mickey had learned over the years that even the smallest of noises could wake his dad up, and waking his dad up was not something that he wanted to do when he'd been drinking. He tiptoed up the stairs to his bedroom, cringing at the squeak the door made when he pulled it open. Coming home from school used to be such a relief, now Mickey wished he could stay anywhere other than with his father on the south-side.  
Checking his watch, Mickey realised that it was currently way past 7PM and that he was in more trouble than he had previously thought. It wasn't entirely his fault for being late home. Mickey was kept behind in school for flunking classes and being disruptive, so that built up time that he wouldn't have away. Then after that, his hood friends had caught up with him on his way home and convinced him to tag along as they prowled the streets. Mickey knew that he shouldn't really do the things he did, but he didn't really have a shining example.  
Hoping that he had passed the storm of his dads anger, Mickey flopped down onto his bed. There were very few times that he felt he could relax in his own house since his mother left, but Mickey still relished in the fact that he still had his bed. He still had a roof over his head when his dad could've easily kicked him out onto the streets. It was times like these when Mickey rolled over everything in his head, questioning his own life and the life of his fathers and why he and his sister and brothers were constantly in the firing line.  
Mickey understood completely, why his own mom had flown from the captivity of his father. He used to be angry at her, for leaving them to fend for themselves and not being there to protect them and give them the love they were lacking. Over the years, however, he had learned to forgive his mother. Taking into account that if it was him, and if he had a choice in the matter, he wouldn't want to be anywhere near his dad. Let alone in the same house as him. Mandy got the worst of it when their mother left. It sickened Mickey every time he heard his dads footsteps on the hallway as he stumbled to his daughters bedroom and slithered into bed with her.  
Mickey had been laid in his bed for a while before he heard his fathers tell-tale footsteps booming up the wooden stairs and down the landing. Mickeys sister Mandy was a few years younger than Mickey and it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it.  
"Mickey!" His fathers voice echoed the hallway and Mickey was frozen in his place on his bed. legs crossed beneath his body like a child who was being told off for having too many cookies before dinner.  
"Yeah?" Mickey called back, attempting to sound manly and calm when the thoughts inside his head were anything but. His dad simply groaned and continued down the hallway. His way of saying that you should stay in your bedroom unless you want hell. Mickey felt all kinds of awful as he heard the handle to Mandy's bedroom door rattle and push open. He rolled over in his bed, holding his hands over his ears and willing for it to be over, but he knew it wouldn't.  
Something inside Mickey snapped when he heard the small, quiet squeal from Mandy's bedroom. Quiet as a mouse and scared like a lion had crept in and pounced. Mickey threw his cover off of his body and jumped out of his bed. Acting on impulse and blind anger he unlocked his door and flung it open, stomping down the hallway. No longer scared of which floor boards would creak anymore. When he reached Mandy's bedroom he hesitated, his hand shaking as it rested on the door handle. Everything was far too quiet and Mickey was scared, but fear wasn't important.  
Mickey almost threw up when he opened the door to his little sisters bedroom. His fathers rotting, stinking body, lied motionless on top of Mandy, who was stiff and shaking slightly. Braced with more anger than he had ever felt towards his father, he stepped through the threshold and into the bedroom, wavering only slightly when his dad turned toward him with venom in his eyes.  
"Get out." His poor excuse of a father whispered, fire burning in his eyes but Mickey didn't move. Instead, for the first time in his life he spoke up. Not backing down this time.  
"You get out." He snapped back, surprised at himself for standing up for his family when it wouldn't have any other repercussion than violence. His dad pulled himself off of his shaking daughter and made himself decent before barging past Mickey, with a whispering promise that he should watch his back. When Mickey was sure that his father was at a good distance, and he could move from where he was stood without falling over. Mickey rushed to Mandy's side, pulling the cover over her shivering exposed body and kneeling beside her. His heart broke when she pulled away from him. Facing the wall and clearly crying from the shaking in her shoulder.  
"Don't worry, Mands. He's going to pay."  
"Mickey, don't!" Mandy suddenly whipped around, grabbing her big brothers hand, trying to hold him back.  
"He'll hurt you.." She whispered. Small tears clouding her eyes as she looked up at Mickey with both fear and adoration. Mickey released himself from her hold and turned to her slowly. Saving his anger for his father and trying to be calm with dealing with his traumatized sister.  
"Mandy, I'd rather it be me getting hurt than you. I'm not going to let him do this anymore."  
With that Mickey was gone. Cautiously making his way past the bathroom and his bedroom towards the stairs. He made a mental note of where the bandages and painkillers were in the bathroom, and making sure that his bedroom lock was still in tact.  
Mickey stood on the stairs, peaking into the living room where his dad was looming over the TV with a beer in his hands and a scowl on his face.  
"You cant do that to Mandy. She's my sister and I'm not gonna let you do that anymore." Mickeys voice shook slightly as he shuffled into the living room. Flinching slightly when his father snapped around and walked briskly towards him.  
"I'll do, what I want. This is my family." He spat, his face far too close to Mickeys who had to turn his own to the side to avoid a shower of spit hitting his face.  
Mickey braced himself for the punch that was surely going to bust his lip, or bruise his eye, or break his nose. Especially after the next thing he was going to say.  
"Well maybe we don't want to be part of your family!"  
The first blow knocked him backwards and the second had him crashing to the floor in a pile of brittle bones. Mickeys head knocked into the floor and everything went black, the pain from his fathers boot in his abdomen still aching as he closed his eyes.

Mickey woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed and breathing heavily. He brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed aggressively before looking down at his knuckles. The faded tattoo evidence of age and passed time. His breath was still ragged as he eyes the bedroom suspiciously, but Mickey calmed slightly when he realised that he wasn't in his childhood bedroom and that his father wasn't waiting for him outside the door. Mickey felt a body sit up beside him and almost jumped of the bed, his fists flying in the direction of the body only to be stopped by two strong hands that held tight and didn't let go.  
"Mickey! Mick! Calm down, it was just a fucking nightmare!"  
"Ian?" The tension flew out of Mickey when he heard his boyfriends voice. He relaxed back into the bed, groaning in displeasure at the feeling of sweat sticking to his back. Ian sighed before falling back as well. Still holding one of Mickeys wrists as he let his boyfriend chill out and faze back into reality.  
Eventually, Mickey turned to Ian with a half smile and tired eyes. Ian raised their joined hands and kissed the back of Mickeys. Showing him that they were here together and that there was no immediate threat to them.  
"Your dad, again?" Ian asked after a few seconds of blissful silence. The last few times that Mickey had had these nightmares, Ian hadn't woken up and Mickey was left scared and alone till the next day so Ian knew that he had to be delicate.  
"Yeah." Mickey answered simply, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose in an attempt to stifle the anger at somebody mentioning his father. This was Ian. Ian could be trusted. Ian cared and Ian was safe and that meant that it was okay and that Mickey was okay.  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Ian asked, trying and failing to hide the yawn that came after the question. Mickey turned to Ian with a small smile, shaking his head and telling him that it was okay.  
There were a few minutes of comfortable nothing and Mickey was still staring at the ceiling. Sleep nowhere near to taking him. Mickey rolled away from Ian but still stayed close, pulling the duvet over his shoulder and curling in on himself.  
"Ian?" Mickey whispered, as a last ditch attempt at comfort. Silently hoping that Ian wouldn't answer and that he was already asleep. But Ian, sweet Ian, groaned in response. Asking what was wrong. It took everything for Mickey to say the next sentence. Make the request that would kill his street cred if anybody else heard it.  
"Hold me, please...I'm such a fucking whimp."  
Ian didn't question Mickey. Didn't laugh or move away from him because he wasn't the south-side trash he fell in love with. Instead, Ian turned to face Mickeys back and slung his arm around him. Pulling his boyfriend to his chest and kissing his bare shoulder lightly.  
"No you aren't, tough guy." Ian responded, using the same nickname that Mickey had given him countless times before.  
"Get some sleep, SouthSide."


	19. Johnlock- Gundust detectives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johns in the hospital. You have to be family to get in so... Sherlock gets a little testy.

Sherlock had felt the case taking a turn for the worse before it had even started. The man that came for help was fishy to say the least. His greasy hair was making Sherlock feel ill and the mans hands were covered in gun residue. The story he gave was even more suspicious than the man himself. He had come to the Consulting Detective due to his nerves about the hospital. John had been the rational one, explaining that almost everyone had a fear of the hospital. It was around the time that the man had begun talking about disappearances within the hospital that Sherlock decided to take the case.

Every trail led to a dead end. The men had tried to talk to ex-employees and patients, Sherlock going as far as admitting himself for 'stomach cramps'. Just to finish this case. All their clues came up empty and they were beginning to get frustrated. Reckless. Sherlock was up to four patches as this was, clearly, "A four patch situation." John, though he tried to have patience for Sherlock, was at wits end. Constantly following and trusting in Sherlock for the leads to go dark. He was getting sick of monitoring Sherlock's eating and sleeping because the man was too "focused" to do it himself.

Their recklessness had lead them into the clutches of the very people they were trying to catch. Right into the teeth of the enemy. Creeping down the stairs into the grimy sewers, with no knowledge of the offenders waiting for them. At the front of the pack, stood the man that had brought them the case. His hair still in greasy waves and his eyes filled with amusement. Sherlock, too focused on the fact that he didn't realize from the beginning, wasn't fast enough to stop one of the henchmen from pulling out a gun.

Wasn't able to stop the bullet from piercing Johns abdomen. Too slow to move him out of the way, or yell at him to move. Everything went in slow motion as the blood sprayed from Johns fresh wound, his body falling backwards with the impact. Sherlock's face switched from shocked to unbelievably sad to very, very angry. All within the next five seconds. Despite his instincts to fly towards the group of men, unarmed and without direction, Sherlock dropped to his knees beside John. Covering the wound with his scarf, just like John had taught him the past year. 

Johns breaths were coming out short and raspy, yet he still managed to throw a strained glare at the group of assailants. As he did, John noticed one of them having a phone pressed to his ears. He was about to warn Sherlock, tell him to run, incase of an ambush. Then he heard the shrill croak of the man asking for an ambulance. He gave Sherlock a confused look and for the first time in their friendship, Sherlock looked equally as perplexed. The greasy man up front laughed, throwing his head back and laying his hands on his protruding stomach.

"Really? The Consulting Detective doesn't understand?" The man asked in a mocking tone, taking a few steps towards Sherlock and crouching down. Now at eye-level. Sherlock's eyes were wide and rimmed with red, his bottom lip not trembling but shaking slightly. His brows furrowed in both a desperate plea and unending confusion.  
"Is he too affected by his sentiment towards Doctor John Watson, that he has completely lost sight of the case?"

At the second question, Sherlock turned back to John who's hand lay on top of his own. John smiled weakly, simply to comfort Sherlock and let him know that he could focus on the case again. John will be fine. John is always fine.

"I a-assume the hospital you called is Saint Annasburg? The hospital in which the 'disappearances' have been taking place?"

"You'll never get to him in time..." replied the stranger, before disappearing into the inky black of the sewers beneath London.  
Sherlock was going to get there in time. He was going to get there before they did. He will be waiting for John.

Almost a full hour later, Sherlock arrived at the hospital. Traffic in London was purposefully worse than normal days, possibly on purpose. The men were keeping Sherlock away from the hospital for as long as they could. When Sherlock finally reached the doors he flung them open. Disregarding people and equipment in his way, he marched up to the front desk. Requesting news on the stability of John Watson and the room that he was situated. Sherlock's feet tapped the floor in quick succession as he waited for the woman at the front desk to click away at her computer. Her shining red nails suggesting that she hated her job and her cheating boyfriend. Sherlock, losing his patience and his temper, slammed his hands on the desk top. Demanding to know what was taking so long.

"I can tell you that John Watson is stable. However, you must be a family member of the patient to be able to enter their room." The woman answered, keeping her calm and her professionalism.

Sherlock spun from the desk, raking his hands through his curls and tugging slightly. Stupid hospitals with their stupid rules and their stupid safety procedures. This was not a matter of personal safety. This is life and death! 

"We are family!" Sherlock persisted, turning back to the unamused receptionist. His hair sticking up in several places and his face flush from desperation. The woman, taking pity on the distraught detective, elected to believe him.  
"Could you tell me your relation to the patient, sir?"

Sherlock was grasping at straws. What was he to John? A friend? A brotherly figure or just an annoyance? Sherlock would like to trust his deductions that there was something more there. That Johns eyes were filled with longing as well as friendship. That his hand on top of Sherlock's were not just guidance, but love. Sherlock's mouth was agape for a few seconds, attempting to form something.

"I'm.. I'm his.. best friend. We live together. We're practically family..." Sherlock pleaded, going as far as to let a few tears escape from his frustrated, warn out eyes.

The woman sighed, back to typing. At first, Sherlock wondered if she was going to ignore him until he was gone. As If Sherlock would leave without John. Despite Sherlock's doubts, the woman looked back up at him with kind eyes.  
"This is completely against protocol, love..." She started, filling Sherlock's heart with hope. "But just because I love the dedication you have for your friend, I'm going to personally... let you in."

Sherlock could honestly kiss that woman. Almost tripping over his own shoes and hitting his face off of the glass doors, Sherlock ran through into the main hall. The receptionist, being the lovely caring person she was, called him back.

"Room 301, sweetheart. Second floor. Go get him, Superman."


	20. Phan- The best and worst kind of shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Dan is getting chased and Phil saves him.

Dan's feet had started aching after the fourth detour. He took rights and lefts, down back alleys and even crossed a field at one point. This is the most walking he had done in a while but there was a reason. Dan knew he was being followed. He could sense it. Not wanting to lead the stalker back to Dan's apartment so he could inevitably kill him, Dan had decided to try to lose the creep. Clearly, it was not going to plan as the man/woman/thing was still hot on his trail.  
Its not even like he was trying to hide the fact that he was following Dan. The shadow was always at least four feet behind him and had made sure to cover his face properly. The blue-ish hood of his jacket was pulled over his head. Hiding everything apart from a shock of bright ginger hair. Dan hadn't been scared for the first five or so minutes. Thinking that the man was just a harmless stranger that just so happened to be heading in his direction. However, after ten to fifteen minutes of the same looking over his shoulder and seeing the shadow, Dan was beginning to get worried.  
It was around half an hour later and Dan had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he had to keep moving. Leading this man as far away as he could from the people that he loved. Dan stumbled slightly, and as he tripped up the pavement, the man reached out his arm. Stilling Dan and saving him from falling. Dan's initial 'thank you' was purely instinctual, which explains his sudden scream when he turned to see who had caught him. Dan could still scarcely see the mans face, but the toothy white grin it portrayed was enough to motivate Dan to struggle away from him. Breaking free of his hold before setting off in a fast pace. Still unsure if the man was ever purposefully following him but eager to put distance between them.  
Unfortunately for Dan, the chase didn't end there. In face, as if mocking him, the shadow man increased to Dan's exact pace. If he wanted to, he could reach out and make a grab at Dan's black T-shirt. Instead, his hands remained firmly by his side. This man was enjoying the chase. Good. Dan thought as he increased his speed even more, electing to jog away from his shadow. Dan was thankful that, despite not jogging in a few years, his legs were still accustomed to the burn.   
Dan thought that he had lost him. Taking refuge behind a few boxes, down a random ally way that he had decided was safe. He heaved in large gulps of air as he took a second to re-cooperate. Desperately wishing that he had brought a drink with him. But, to be fair, he didn't know that he was going to be chased through London by a hooded lunatic. Dan had ended up crouched, leant against the ally wall with his head in his hands. Not wanting to cry, Dan stood back up, straightening himself up. This was not something to cry about, it was just a little scary. The man didn't look too strong, its not like he would beat Dan in a fight, he was just being silly.  
Clouded by his rationalisation, Dan hadn't noticed the arrival of a different shadow. When he did happen to look in the direction of the person, he couldn't help the squeak of fear that came from his mouth. The man, though, seemed amused slightly. He looked nothing like Dan's previous shadow. This man was taller, and he had a much more pleasant smile.  
"Are you okay?" The man spoke in a whisper, as if he was talking to a spooked deer and didn't want it to run away. Dan mulled over the question for a few seconds.  
"I guess." Was his eventual answer. Which, pretty much, summed up both the encounter with the shadow and his entire life leading up to it.  
The man chuckled. A low rumble starting in his stomach and erupting from his mouth like fireworks. Pushing his head back and exploding into the atmosphere. Dan actually smiled. Despite the terrifying ordeal that he had just been through, the mans laugh was contagious and Dan couldn't help himself. Soon, both men were in fits of giggles. Laughing because the other person was. A not-so-vicious vicious circle. After the laughing died down, the man sighed.  
"I'm Phil. What's your name?" Phil asked, his accent creating bubbles in the pit of Dan's stomach. Phil's pronunciation of the word 'your' shouldn't have made Dan smile but it did.  
"Dan." He replied. His accent nowhere near matching the feeling of Phil's.  
"Why are you down here?"  
Dan wasn't sure whether he wanted to tell Phil about the shadow man or not. On one side, Phil would definitely be able to protect Dan if it came to a fight. The man was wearing a hoodie but his muscles were still defined underneath. However, on the other hand, Phil could think that Dan is completely crazy and that he made the entire story up. Risking it, Dan told Phil about the half hour detour and the fall and the chase. Revelling in the way Phil's lips dipped into a frown at the idea of Dan being chased through London.  
"I know where we can go." Phil concluded after Dan had finished his recollection. The man hurried over to a ladder that lead up to the first apartment of the block of flats they were next to. The metal ladder shook as Phil climbed the first few steps to lower the next that lead even further up. Realising what Phil was suggesting, Dan's stomach began to felt tight. Like he was about to throw up everything he had ate this past week. Phil looked down at him, he was only a few feet up but to Dan he felt like a giant. He held out his hand to Dan, locking eyes with him in an intense stare.  
"This is how we're going to lose him, Dan. Trust me."  
Trust him? How could Dan trust Phil? The two had only just met and Phil was suggesting that they jump across buildings to get away from a hooded stalker that was probably only trying to scare him. Phil was a madman as far as Dan was concerned. A beautiful, awe-inspiring madman but a madman non-the-less. For all Dan knew, Phil could be with the guy that was originally chasing him. Their hoodies looked similar, they could have bought them from the same place. How else would Phil know that Dan ha turned down that particular alley if he wasn't following him too?  
For some reason, Dan's reasoning meant nothing. looking into Phil's strong blue eyes made Dan feel safe. Despite knowing him for a total of 10 minutes, Dan felt like he could trust Phil. He knew that it was going to end badly, that it was going to be destructive. Still, Dan grasped Phil's hand and allowed Phil to pull him up the stairs. Among the racketing of the metal steps and the beating of their hearts, Dan's final words were almost unintelligible.  
"Okay, Phil. I trust you."


	21. Gallavich~ Consider yourself, at home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey joins the Gallagher's for Ian's nineteenth birthday party.

Who knew that birthday meals could be this bad? His entire life, Mickey had always done the party without the meal. The beer without the food. But now, Mickey was with Ian and the boy had insisted that Mickey join his birthday meal with the family. As part of the family. Honestly? To say that the 'party' was going bad wouldn't exactly be accurate. It was just that Mickey wasn't used to this. The whole, having to get up and act responsible thing. The only person that Mickey had even given a present to before was Mandy. And she was easy. Simple make up and jewellery. Ian was much harder to buy gifts for. Especially considering that they weren't the most loving of couples and the best gift they'd ever given each other was sex. But Mickey had managed to find something.

Mickey was currently stood awkwardly on the first few steps of the stairway. His foot tapping anxiously and Ian's present burning a hole In his pocket. His eyes idly scanned the room that had gradually filling over the past hour and half. All either friends or family of the Gallagher's. Even some patrons of the Alibi Room had put down their drinks to say happy birthday to Ian. The only person that hadn't turned up was Frank. Typical. Surprise, surprise.

Fiona was busy in the kitchen. Sweating over the stove, trying her best to prepare the meal and the cake at the same time. Her hair was up in her usual messy bun and she was attempting and failing to keep everything together, Steve was hounding her, as usual. Mickey was sure the con-man had only come to the party to try and convince Fiona to let him into her pants. Fiona whipped round to face Steve, brandishing a knife and threatening to cut the tip of his dick off if he didn't leave her alone. Mickey wasn't going to lie, it sort of made him chuckle. 

Little Debbie and Carl were sat on the living room carpet, arguing over something trivial. Mickey was sure he had heard 'Virginity' being mentioned but he really didn't want to think further into it. Debbie had apparently insisted on Mickey coming over so that she could 'doll him up'. Do his makeup and nails. Now, Mickey didn't want to crush the young girls dreams, but if Debbie thought that Mickey was going to let her do that she was so very, very wrong. Carl had been a little worried about Mickey being here. Saying something along the lines of 'I don't wanna wake up with my teeth knocked out cause Mickey had gotten angry during the night.' and Mickey honestly wanted to burst out laughing at the thought.

Lip and Mandy were sat at the kitchen table. Whisper-arguing about how Lip should be doing something with his life an how Lip just wanted Mandy to mind her business. Mickey found it quite sad that Mandy seemed fully committed to their relationship and Lip was taking it all for granted an he didn't look entirely interested. Mickey was naturally protective of his little sister after years of attempting to protect her from their father. However, he did understand where Lip was coming from. If anybody had tried to tell him he had to stay in school or go to College, he would probably be a little hostile too.

Mickey was suddenly distracted from his foot tapping when the front door swung open. Revealing the ultimate power couple of the South Side, Kevin and Veronica. Their arms were interlinked and their hands were in the air. Both full of cans of beer. Veronica and Kev were the idealistic couple and honestly? Mickey was jealous of how well they function together in their relationship and how they never seem to be apart for very long. Unlike him and Ian.

Speaking of the redhead, Mickey halted his observation of the room when the teen shuffled toward him. He was already pleasantly tipsy, unlike Mickey. Ian placed his hands on Mickeys waist, underneath his jacket resting on his hips. Mickey stiffened on instinct, pulling away slightly. Ian paused for a second, letting Mickey realise where they were and the people who were surrounding them. After rationalising that there was nobody that cared who he was with, Mickey relaxed into Ian's hands.  
"How you doing, Mick? You enjoying yourself?" Ian asked, swaying a little.  
"Yeah, I'm peachy. Could do with a beer, though." Mickey replied. His voice nonchalant despite his face burning red due to their public display of affection.  
"You haven't had one already?! Wow! Proud of you, Mickey.."  
Mickey flipped him off, shaking out of his grip and pouting.

Just as Ian was about to question/make fun of Mickey, Fiona called them all to the kitchen. Knowing that there were a lot of people here and limited seats, everyone made a bee-line for the kitchen table. After some squabbling and threats of violence, the only six people around the table were: Mandy, Lip, Ian, Fiona, Kev and V. Mickey, Steve, Debbie and Carl were left to awkwardly stand around the table as the others laughed in victory.

Ian looked up at Mickey with pure mischief in his eyes before swivelling around in his chair so that his knees were faced sideways. He tapped his thigh lightly, gesturing for Mickey to sit down. Micky simply scoffed, crossing his arms and blushing.  
"What?" Ian asked, obliviously. Feigning innocence. "My laps the best seat here.." The taller boy stated with a wink, making Mickey blush even harder and shuffle away from the redhead. Mickey was thankful that he had such an understanding boyfriend. Of course, Mickey wouldn't mind sitting in Ian's lap. Just.. not when they were surrounded by family members.

The entire group immediately lunged for the food in the middle of the table after getting situated, but Fiona cleared her throat harshly. Gesturing to Ian, who was stuffing his face with chicken. Ian looked up, his eyes wide. He asked 'what' with his mouth still full, spraying chicken bits across the table.  
"Speech!" His sister practically insisted, starting a quiet chant that soon became a rabble of noise.  
Ian eventually gave in. Standing up and holding his beer bottle in his hand as he started to say his unrehearsed, unscripted speech.

"Alright.. so, I'm nineteen." There was a loud cheer from Kev who was sat opposite him but the man soon quietened when he realised he was the only one cheering.  
"Thanks, Kev. I'm nineteen an I guess I wouldn't have been able to stay alive or out of prison without you guys, so.. thanks. Fiona, you are awesome. Even though I think you're stupid most of the time. Mands, I love you. We've been best friends since high school and I hope we stay friends for, uh.. a long time. Lip, you can only ever be you so don't let anyone tell you who you should be. And, Kev? V? For the love of God, stay together. You guys are the only positive role model we have, which is kind of messed up when you think about it. Oh, and Mick? I don't wanna get too mushy here so I'm just going to say... I'm glad you came."

There were cheers and applause from the entire table before everyone started digging into the feast that Fiona had prepared. Mickey smiled at Ian from where he was leant against the kitchen counter, eating his meal and finally sipping on an ice cold beer. While listening in on the idle chatter of the table, Mickey started to realise how much he enjoyed being around these people. People he didn't have to fear. Between the comfortable sway of conversation and the acceptance he got from everyone he saw that he never really got at home, Mickey was in heaven. Mickey felt like he could be himself here and that's all he had ever really wanted.

After about an hour, everyone had finally finished eating and had ushered Ian into the living room to sit on the couch. Gathering around the boy to give him his well-deserved presents. Carl, being Carl, got Ian a Taser that he had found in the garbage to "tase a dudes nuts if he hits on you and you don't wanna fuck.". Debbie had a much more sensible gift to give Ian. The teen had set up a bank account for Ian to have so that he could save his own money. Lip and Mandy had saved together to get Ian the joint present of two tickets to a concert that Ian had been dying to go to. Fiona hadn't gotten him a material present, but the promise of helping Ian move out of the Gallagher house was good enough for him. Kev and Veronica both provided enough beer and weed for Ian to be happy for all eternity and never sober again.

Then, all eyes were on Mickey. Including Ian's soft emerald irises. Mickey suddenly started to panic, the pressure building up in the room cutting off his air supply. He hadn't really planned on having to give Ian his present in front of people. He didn't want anybody to see his gift and judge him for his lack of originality. The eyes and everybody staring was getting a little too intimidating for Mickey so he just shrugged, mumbling under his breath,  
"Didn't know I was supposed to bring a present, Carrot top."

Everybody fizzled out after that. Each going back to either a new objective or the regular one. Debbie and Carl, Lip and Mandy all arguing quietly. Kev and V slow dancing in the kitchen and Steve and Fiona were nowhere to be seen (if you know what I mean. ;) ) Mickey naturally gravitated back to the stairs, his heart heavy at the concept that Ian would be disappointed by the lack of a present from his significant other. Eventually, Ian found his way to where the south side boy was stood. Crossing his arms and glaring at him slightly.  
"You didn't get me anything? Mickey, you're literally my boyfriend... what gives?"

"I got you a present, tough guy. Can I just.. give it to you upstairs, maybe?"

Ian smiled slightly at that. Relieved that Mickey hadn't totally dismissed his birthday or hadn't gotten him anything. He nodded at Mickey's question and followed the shorter man as he practically ran up the stairs to Ian and Lips shared bedroom. Mickey directed Ian to sit on the bed, sitting next to him and digging the present out of his jean pocket.

Mickey was worrying all day about how he was going to give Ian his present without it looking like a proposal. Because, although he would love that, he was pretty sure that neither Ian or himself were ready for that yet. So after about a solid, two minutes sat next to Ian on his bed debating it over in his head, Mickey just pulled out the little box and shoved it into Ian's hands. Revelling in the little blush he managed to pull out of the redhead.

"Mickey?" Ian asked, cautiously, when he opened the box to reveal the shine of a single gold ring in a bed of felt.  
"It's not...I'm not asking you to... it's a promise ring." Mickey stumbled over his words, blushing like an idiot.

"I...It basically means that.. I want to commit to our relationship, properly. You know... eventually. Like... we'll get married, someday. Just...yeah.. I guess this is me saying...I love you."

"How did you afford this, mick?! I mean... I love you too, but how did you get this?"

"None of your business, Gallagher."


	22. A sweet distraction~ Nymobblepot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald needs help from somebody inside the GCPD and he thinks he knows someone who will be far more than willing to help.

Oswald was on his way to the top. Slowly but surely, and as soon as he gets rid of Fish, he'll be king. Unfortunately, in order to get rid of Fish, Oswald needed a little help from the GCPD and as far as he was concerned, there was only one person there that would help him get the information he needed to bring Fish down. The only person that wouldnt have any qualms about stealing secret documents or doing anything...illeagal.  
Though James Gordon had had his issues with the law in the past, Oswald wasnt sure he could count on the man to help him with this particular task. Oswald no longer exactly trusted Gordon and he had a feeling that the mistrust was mutual. After there...run in, on the pier, Oswald had tried to befriend Gordon but it was clear that James didnt have the same view of friendship as Oswald did.  
Harvey was completely crossed of the list. If the man ever got over the hatred he had for the penguin, Bullock would still probably leave him for dead. And he certainly wasnt going to risk his job or his reputation to help the Penguin become king of Gotham. Anyway, Oswald didnt think he wanted Bullocks help at all. He wouldnt dare stoop to that level of aquantence. No. He needed someone elegant. Smart and cunning, someone who wasnt going to slow him down but who could provide actual help and possibly even protection.  
Oswald Cobblepot needed Edward Nygma.  
During their first meeting a few weeks ago, Oswald had been slightly perturbed by the behaviour of the tall man. The way that his sniper like eyes folowed Oswald through the station and how he had zero aspect of personal space. Oswald knew who the Riddler was as soon as he saw the crime scenes. He knew him by his name. Oswald never exactly liked riddles but somehow, Nygma had an ability to make them somewhat endearing.  
So, with his coat tails flowing behind him and his cane tapping on the concrete, Oswald staggard with determination towards the station. When he reached the door they were immeadiatly pushed aside and the entire GCPD went silent. The prescence of the Penguin was a little alarming, especially considering that he was wanted for multiple crimes and he had a the best assassin in Gotham by his side.  
A few of the more brave police officers, including James Gordon, moved to make an arresst but were quickly stopped in their track as Zsasz lifted his guns. Everybody knew that the man never misses and they were all at least moderately smart enough to know that Zsasz would not hesitate. James' brow was furrowed in frustration and Oswald smirked at the sight.  
"What do you want Cobblepot? Youre not welcome in this station... unless your turning yourself in?"  
"You'd love that, wouldnt you, Officer Gordon? No, not exactly. Ive come for Edward Nygma, so fetch him for me."  
Nobody moved. When Oswald came to call for someone, it never ended well. And although most of the department were either freaked out or annoyed by Nygma, none of them wanted to rat the man out. However, after a while, Oswalds patience ran short and he instructed Zsasz to fire into the air to scare the living daylights out of the men. They were gone then, checking every room in the department to find Ed.

The light inside the medical examiners room was turned off, the only glow coming from the lamp that Edward was currently using to illuminate the corpse he was cutting into. He had been told several times that he wasnt allowed in here. Wasnt allowed to touch the bodies or do any examining, but Ed wasnt really one to listen. The fascination over ruled any desire against getting fired.  
As he made an incision above the mans hip, Edwards mind floated to a particular man that he wouldnt mind discecting. In a nice, loving way. The moment that Edward saw the famous Penguin, he knew that the man would cloud his mind for weeks to come. Not only was he such an inspiring killer and such an interesting human, but he wasnt bad looking either. At least to Edwards eyes. Despite his limp and his bird-like features, Edward found the man enticing. He small, slender form and the curve of his hips made Nygmas mind foggy when he was trying to concentrate on a task or an investigation.  
Edward had tried, many times, to distract himself and keep his mind on his work. However, he always ended in the same place he started. Even the riddles that he told reminded him of the man now and Nygma feared that there was no escape from the hold that Oswald Cobblepot had on him.  
So, when about a dozen officers burst into the room yelling something about Oswald needing him, it was understandable of Nygma to roll his eyes whilst taking off his gloves and putting down his utensils. Although his stomach was doing flips, Edward knew he still had to keep an air of professionalism and act like he wasnt affected by the mans prescence. After all, he wasnt some desperate school girl seeking the attention of a jock or the hottest guy in school. No. He was an educated, well mannered man who was simply impressed by the actions of a mad man.  
Upon entering the main part of the station and catching eyes with the Penguin, the Riddler blushed a deep crimson. He cleared his throat a little in an attempt to hide it and compose himself. Unfortunately, from the smirk on Oswalds face, it was obvious that the small man had caught on.  
"You needed me, Mr Penguin?" Edward asked, adding on the title as a form of respect.  
Oswald grinned, motioning for Zsasz to put his gun down and for Edward to step closer. Now, the men were at least five feet apart and the tension between them was strong. Zsasz raised his eyebrows in both surprise and amusement and mummbled something about the Penguin finally getting some and waiting in the car.  
"Yes, Mr Nygma. I do." Oswald admitted upon exiting the station, Nygma in toe. When finding that they were a safe distance from snooping police officers, Oswald explained further.  
"I need someone on the inside to aquire some files and.. lets say.. listen in on the movements of a certain bitch. Think you can do that?"  
"So you want me to be your snitch?"  
"Are you capable of that, mr Riddler?" Oswald fired back. Using Nygmas 'villain' name as both a threat and in a sort of admirational tone. Ed smirked, knowing that they were going to get along nicely.  
"I believe i am, mr Penguin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N   
> hey, thanks to all the people who have read my shitty little one shots so far. I never really considered myself good at writing so its kind of shocking that all of these people are interested in my little fan fictions.  
> So, I have two things to say then its back to the gay.  
> 1) Thanks for reading. The fact that im getting reads is like.. the only reason im still uploading these.  
> 2) Feel free to comment on what ship you want to see next/more of. You could also leave suggestions as to what you want the one shot to be about, I may even go overboard and make separate multi-chapter fanfictions if I like the idea.
> 
> Sorry for rambling, thanks again.  
> Now, back to the homosexual agenda..  
> ~Alexxx


	23. Resist the Rune~Malec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is trying to resist Alec and take it slow but it doesn't exactly work.

Magnus had honestly been trying. Attempting to be patient with Alexander and let the man decide what he wanted and when. This is officially the slowest that Magnus had ever been with anyone but his brain reasoned that it was okay. Alec would be worth it. This time he would wait, instead of throwing caution to the wind.

So despite Alec's overwhelming good looks, Magnus had been keeping his distance. Holding back on his advances. He had even toned down the flirting. Something that Magnus had vowed to never do. If there was one thing that Magnus could live off of, it would be flirting with people. Whether the feelings were reciprocated or not, it didn't matter to him. Its all in the chase, in Magnus' opinion. At least it used to be, until Alec turned up to his club on that faithful night.

All bravery and strength and bottled up emotion and frustration. Magnus could feel the tension in the mans shoulders before they had even met. And when they did, Magnus expected fire and passion. Brutality. Yet he got the exact opposite. Alec was full of icy responses and cold shoulders. But Magnus knew. He always knew. Magnus knew when somebody was attracted to him. Both physically and emotionally.

Magnus was having a hard time resisting how hot Alec was. How toned and athletic he was. Magnus couldn't even be in the same room as Alec when he was training without getting light headed anymore. But above all, it was getting increasingly harder for Magnus to resist Alexander's cuteness.

The little furrow in his brow when he didn't understand something. His cocky smirk when confronting an enemy and his soft little smile in the morning. Magnus loved, more than anything, catching Alec off guard and watching the blush form on his cheeks. It endlessly amused Magnus that Alec would get so flustered around him. Stuttering and pulling at the hem of his shirt while he mumbled out a response.

If there was one thing that was going to be difficult for Magnus, it would be resisting the urge to stand on his tip toes, and kiss Alec so softly that it would terrify him and endear him all at once. Stealing his heart and pulling him into a blooming romance that would last as long as Alec lived.

But, alas, the younger man was tip-toeing around the idea of being with another man. Or being with anybody for that matter. Magnus had gotten him alone, gotten him drunk (consensually) but nothing seemed to work. Alec always had to do something or go somewhere or 'wasn't gay'. Yeah, right. Magnus saw the way that Alec looked at him when he thought he wasn't being seen. The curiosity and want in his eyes, quickly masked as soon as Magnus turned his way. Yet, Alec still wasn't ready to take that jump and Magnus had to be understanding about it. After all, he wasn't an asshole and he wasn't going to rush this when Alec was one of the most attractive men he had met in his long, long life.

Magnus finally snapped back to reality, his mind clearing. Realising that he had been stood in the same stance for quite a while and his training partner was looking at him with concern in his eyes. Magnus was lucky he hadn't been punched. He came to the conclusion that he wasn't in the right head space to be training right now as he couldn't entirely concentrate. He arranged another date and time with his partner and was about to put his shirt back on when the doors to the training room burst open. Followed by heavy footsteps and a sharp intake of breath.

Magnus smirked before turning around. Knowing exactly who it was from the tension in his steps. The older man purposefully turned around slowly, taking a few more seconds than usual to pull his shirt over his stomach. Alecs eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated when they met Magnus'. The man stumbled over his words and stuttered around saying what he had actually come to Magnus for. His cheeks flushed and his stance shaking slightly.

"M... Magnus, I need- I mean we need your help.. Um.. demon, Clary." Alec managed to stutter out the remnants of a sentence but the words got harder to say the closer that Magnus got to him.

Alec's heart was practically beating its way out of his chest as Magnus approached him. His tight, white t-shirt showing off the outline of his toned arms and abs. Alec wasn't sure he had ever seen Magnus without his eyeliner before but it really made his eyes stand out. And the smirk that the Warlock had on his face was both infuriating and incredibly hot.

"Oh, Alexander. I am but a simple Warlock, no need to get so flustered in my presence." Magnus teased with a wink. 

Alec scoffed and turned away from Magnus. Afraid that if he had stayed where he was, if Magnus had gotten any close, he would've crumbled and lost all sense of professionalism and sensibility. If his mother could see him now, Alec couldn't dare to dwell on what she would think. Not only was he crushing on a down worlder, but he was also the 'wrong' gender. Though, Alec could argue that Magnus wasn't exactly far from a woman.

"W-Whatever, Magnus. Come one, we need a Warlock."  
"I know you do."

Alec stopped in his tracks, his hand resting on the handle of the door. He sighed in frustration and annoyance and turned to face the man that was the cause of his endless confusion and short temper. Alec gasped when he saw that Magnus was far closer than he had expected. Magnus' breath fanned across Alecs face and the younger man turned away, a light blush along his cheeks.

"Magnus." Alec warned, his voice shakier than he would've desired. Magnus rested his hand cautiously on Alec's waist, careful not to startle him and scare him away.

"Alexander, nobody can say I didn't try, but darling you are far too much to resist."

Alec turned back to face Magnus just as the Warlock lifted his hand to cup Alecs' cheek. The shadow hunter froze for a second, scared of what was about to happen. Then he took into consideration that his life was in his own hands and leaned into meet Magnus' lips, his hands immediately falling from the door handle and onto Magnus' hips.

Fireworks aren't even close to the description of the feeling that Alec was experiencing. Magnus had gained enough practice in the years of life he had lived and he was putting it to the test right now. Alec, who had never actually kissed anyone before, was seriously wondering why on earth he hadn't and if he could do this for the rest of his life.

Apparently, both men had forgotten that there were multiple doors to the training room and that Clary was in trouble. So, understandably, more people would come to find Magnus if Alec hadn't succeeded.

The boys pulled apart. Both from lack of air and the squeal that they heard from the other side of the room. Magnus laughed a little at the shocked yelp that came from Alec when he saw Isabelle and Jace. Who had been there long enough to see what they had seen.

"I so knew it!" Isabelle stated, swaying slightly and skipping towards Alec to tease him about the new development. 

Despite the fact that the man he had just kissed was stood in front of him, staring at his lips like he wanted more, and Isabelle was getting closer, Alecs eyes immediately landed on Jaces'.

Alec was always concerned about how Jace would react the his.. not straightness. Jace, however, had a smug look on his face, pointing to his own lips and gesturing to Magnus. Apparently, Magnus wasn't wearing his eyeliner, but he had chosen this day to wear lipstick. Consequently, Alec was now also wearing a slight bit of lipstick thanks to the kiss. 

Alec flipped his Parabati off before wiping the remaining lipstick off with the back of his hand. He pried Magnus away from the grabbing hands of Isabelle who was far too excited for this and addressed the whole room of two not entirely shocked shadow hunters and a very satisfied Warlock.

"Hey, guys... shows over. Isn't Clary in trouble?"

Isabelle became suddenly serious and Jaces' face changed from smirking to scowling when he remembered the entire reason he was here. 

"Can you track her Magnus? She was last seen with a suspected Demon and we cant find her.. not even with our Parabati tracking. o you have this kind of power?" Jace asked.

"I do now." Magnus replied. Throwing a wink at Alec and leading the pack of shadow hunters out of the training room. The smirk on his face would never leave.


	24. Gallavich~Bat out of hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey decides that Ian has spent too long in the psychiatric unit and busts him out with the help from his brother and some Gallaghers.

In Mickeys honest and truthful opinion, Ian had been locked up for far too long. Although it was true that Ian had admitted himself in the first place, voluntarily, and Mickey had advised towards it at the time, he had begun to regret it as soon as Ian walked through the gates. Ever since Mickey pulled away from Ian's warm embrace, he hadn't been able to fully process what was happening. The extent of Ian's illness and what it was doing to his health. Where Ian was going and for how long. It took him a few hours to even realise that he should've never made Ian admit himself. Even if it was for the boys own good.

Mickey had never been the kind of person that liked being in the company of other people. Even as a little kid, the only person the boy was comfortable being around was his little sister, Mandy. His brothers weren't too bad either, except they were a little extreme and kind of moronic. Mickey soon realised that he couldn't really hold a conversation with the two boys without it trailing off into talking about kidnap and murder. In school, Mickey didn't exactly have friend because he was under the impression that he didn't need friends. He wasn't really the friend making kind. So, understandably, Mickey had always been ok with being alone because, to a certain extent, he had been alone his entire life.

Then he met Ian Gallagher. The ginger tween who, from the very beginning, constantly took up his spare time. The boy who gradually but very surely wormed his way through the cracks in Mickeys exterior. He would cloud Mickeys every waking (and sleeping) thought, making him question everything about himself. Then, he had the audacity to look shocked when Mickey came out to his whole neighbourhood for him. So, Mickey was fine with being lonely... before Ian. However, since Ian had become a constant in his life, Mickey had begun to find it difficult to be away from him. Due to all the time they spent together, Mickey felt lost without Ian by his side. Even if Mickey woke up one morning in an empty bed because Ian had left to take a shower, his chest would constrict and his eyes would water because he just... didn't want to be without him.

Now it had been almost a full day and Mickey felt like he was going through withdrawal. Like Ian was a heavy, class A drug that he was addicted to and somebody had taken him away. Which wasn't exactly a lie. Logically, Mickey could let it be. Leave Ian to continue through the 72 hours that he had signed himself up for. Let him go through it and get his evaluation at the end, stay with him afterwards and make him take his pills. Logically, Mickey could stop being so clingy and just deal with it. On the other hand, he could round up both of their families, Milkovich and Gallagher, and bust him out instead. For some weird reason, unbeknownst to him, Mickey liked the second idea better.

Mickey knew that it probably wasn't a responsible or even a good idea. To break Ian out of a voluntary 72 hour hold that would help him in the long run, Just because Mickey was lonely and wanted to see him. But it wasn't a joke to Mickey, when he said that he was going to get Ian through this. As a family. They couldn't exactly do that if Ian was locked up away from Mickeys accepting and loving arms. So, despite it being mostly fuelled by selfish want, Mickey was sure that Ian would appreciate being busted out by his knight is shining armour. So he layed out a plan.

First, he had to know the layout of the psychiatric unit before he made any move to get Ian out, and luckily he knew somebody who had been in that place before. Mickeys older brother, Iggy, had chosen to use the place as a safe haven once. It wasn't exactly hard for him to admit himself. It was understandable that he was a little messed up considering his upbringing. Iggy had stayed there for quite a while after their mother left. Terry would never blame himself for anybody's actions so, naturally, the blame turned to his kids and Iggy was in the firing line at the time. And, Iggy, being the person that he was had made blueprints of the entire building and had also conveniently planned the rout of how to get in and out without ever being suspected or caught. But, there could only be four people busting Ian out.

Mickey was already dead set on being one of the ones to take Mickey out of the unit. he had a fairy tale vision of saving the ginger boy and proposing and living happily ever after. Iggy had to be there too, to navigate and lead the operation. When Mickey told the Gallagher's about his plan, Lip was immediately on board. He was worried about his little brother and wasn't too certain that the people at the unit would be able to help Ian how he needed to be helped. Like Mickey, Lip felt like this was supposed to be dealt with internally, as a family. Fiona, however, was a little harder to convince. She had been there every single time that Monica had a break down. As both clean up and moral support, because when Monica broke down she didn't just affect herself but everybody around her too. So, it was understandable that she would want Ian to stay and figure out his medication. Be a better person than Monica was and be safe. Fiona just didn't want her younger brother to end up going down the same road as their mother did. Despite this, Fiona still insisted on tagging along and helping so that the boys didn't get into more trouble by being idiots. And then there were four.

The plan, according to Iggy, was quite simple. Mickey and Iggy would intercept a laundry basket that was often taken in and out of the building and hide themselves among the unwashed sheets. Lip and Fiona would act as the laundry workers, pushing the basket through the building with confidence that screamed that they weren't out of place. From there, Mickey and Iggy would be pushed into the laundry room where they would all acquire doctor and nurse outfits that they would wear to get Ian out of his cell. Iggy, being the awesome brother that he was and not entirely phased by the idea, had offered to take Ian's place. So they could get him out smoothly and there would be no suspicion until the morning. They would then leave exactly how they came in, only Iggy would be in Ian's place and the ginger boy would be hidden among the pile of clothes with Mickey by his side.

The plan was fool proof so the four of them could definitely pull it off. The first half ran smoothly, no hiccups as of yet. Lip and Fiona had gotten the laundry cart on that morning and met Mickey and Iggy just behind the building. Thirty six hours before Ian was due to be released. Mickey was sweating as they entered the place, hidden amongst the patient gowns. Iggy, on the other hand, was calm and collected. In the headspace that they needed to get in, get Ian and get out. Occasionally he tapped the side of the cart to signal to Lip and Fiona which direction they needed to go in. Directing the Gallagher's smoothly as to where the laundry room would be. However, they didn't factor into their plan that fellow nurses may have questions.

"Excuse me? I don't think I've seen you around before, who are you?" A rough voice coughed out, grabbing at Lips arm with his grubby hands. Lip quickly shook him off, an unamused look etched on his face. He stayed calm, though. His mind dead set on busting Ian and he was pretty sure they couldn't do that if Lip started fights.  
"We're new, started today. Don't you read the schedule?" Fiona replied smoothly, already walking swiftly away before the man could even question them further.

Mickey let out the breath that he had subconsciously been holding in. Gasping for air and feeling far more claustrophobic than he had previously thought he was. To be fair, though, he had never been hidden in a laundry cart before. When the rescue team finally reached the laundry room , Mickey practically upturned the cart to get out, cursing about how they don't make it easy enough for people to be smuggled in and out of this place. Iggy and Mickey changed quickly and efficiently. Iggy complaining about how itchy the fabric was against his, apparently, delicate skin and Mickey whining about how he didn't want this to be what Ian would see him in when he was bravely rescuing him from his captors.

To add to the list of things that the four of them hadn't thought of, when they got to the room, was that Ian was both medicated and asleep. Fiona, being the big sister and almost mother of Ian was about to sneak over to wake the ginger boy up. That was until Mickey possessively stole her place and sat on Ian's bed. Resting his hand on the boys shaking shoulder that was facing towards him as Ian curled himself towards the wall.

Mickey shook Ian lightly, making sure that he wouldn't startle him. He had learnt from experience that Ian wasn't exactly a morning person. But Mickey was hoping that, thanks to the drugs, Ian would be calmer than usual and wouldn't lash out at him or freak out like usual. After all, he wanted Ian to be happy about his presence, not irritated.

Ian groaned, rolling over in the tiny bed he had been given so that he was now facing the man that had disturbed his drug soaked dreams. His eyes flickering open and a small sated smile appeared on his face when he saw that the man was Mickey and that mickey was here. Ian didn't get his hopes up, however. He had, had many dreams about this very moment.  
"Hey, Mick. You come to save me?" Ian asked, his mind still foggy from the sedatives that he was under.  
Mickey laughed, helping Ian to sit up on the bed and gradually stand up. His eyes filling with fondness when Ian waved at Lip, Fiona and Iggy who were stood in the doorway.   
"You betcha, mumbles. Cause I'm your boyfriend. What? You think I was just gonna leave you here?"  
"Never, Mick. Love you.."

Mickey could swear, like the Grinch, his heart doubled in size in that exact moment. He knew that his cheeks would permanently hurt from smiling and the blush that covered his entire face was never going to leave. Mickey was perfectly fine with being alone. Just as long as, every time it got bad or too hard to handle by himself, he would have Ian to run to and lean on. As long as he had Ian, Mickey believed he would never truly be alone. Even if he couldn't see Ian, or talk to him, Mickey would know that he was there. Their bond was so profound and strong that Mickey wasn't afraid of being abandoned anymore because he knew that Ian would be there.

In his drugged up and dazed headspace, Ian looked at Mickey and saw a superhero. Mickey was able to be so strong for everybody else but so sensitive and kind some times. Ian was certain that he didn't deserve the strength and bravery and love that Mickey poured into him and the feeling was entirely mutual because Mickey was sure that he didn't deserve Ian's love either. Yet here they were.

"Love you too, princess. Now lets get out of here before they admit us all. They'd sure have a lot to go off of."


	25. Nygmobblepot~Sweeter greetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically an alternate meeting between Oswald and Edward in Oswald's new bar.

Oswald grinned gleefully, revelling in the success of his brand new nightclub: 'The Ice burg Lounge.' Which looked as fancy as it sounded. A soft, indigo glow shone over the circular tables scattered around the club. The carpet was made from plush, faux fur imported from Turkey and the dance floor was a striking light blue. Oswald's attempt at making the place feel a little colder. After all, what's an Ice burg lounge without an ice rink themed dance floor? Oswald may have pulled out all of the stops for the opening of this fancy little place. Even going as far as to order a regular flow of very safe and very relaxing gas to be pumped regularly into the club. Ensuring that everybody who entered, lowered their guards immediately.

As soon as Oswald had opened the front doors, people from all over Gotham were piling in. Completely forgetting any bad blood between themselves and the Penguin that they may have had and rushing in for both the booze and the entertainment. The drinks were as elegant as the décor and had also been imported from some place overseas that Oswald hadn't been bothered to pay attention to. The drinks were a side order compared to the entertainment that was offered at Oswald's bar. He wouldn't call the Ice burg lounge a strip club as such. However, he had made sure to hire (in his own professional opinion) the most attractive looking men and women to serve the drinks/food and entertain the guests however they please. Every night, there was a variety of beautiful singing exotic dancing and the best comedy sets in Gotham. Because, well, who doesn't like a good laugh?

The Penguin, though ecstatic about the whole ordeal, had not expected the opening to be such a success. He hadn't been prepared for the amount of people that wanted to become regulars of the Ice burg lounge. Oswald had gone from being an umbrella boy for a bitchy queen to the king of Gotham with his own night club in a little over a year. He had even had to bulk up his security after a gang of ruffians had attempted to steal from the place only to be apprehended by Zsasz. Zsasz who was not at all happy with the new security that he was forced to work with. He would complain to Oswald, when everybody was gone and the lights were set at their lowest, that the new security were no fun and that they couldn't aim to save their lives (literally). To which Oswald would agree and comfort Zsasz but explain that, despite Zsasz's completely capable gunmanship, they needed the help. It may have left Zsasz sour but his beloved lounge would be safe.

On this one particular night, Oswald was perched happily at the mahogany bar. Marvelling at the waves of people who would come to congratulate him on his rise to excellence, playfully conversing with them until they became boring and he shooed them away. He would also sit on his stool and laugh bashfully at the drunk strangers who would attempt to proposition him for his money and status. To which he would flirtatiously decline unless they were particularly attractive. It began to feel, to Oswald, as if he was no longer the criminal Penguin. Instead he was a business man in charge of businesses and crime. Simple, Excellent and highly desirable, Oswald Cobblepot.

Oswald glanced up at the doors routinely as he did every time they opened. Expecting to be greeted by the usual thirty year old bar crawler who wanted to forget the mistakes they had made in their lives, or the teens and twenty year olds who were looking for fun and who were inevitably going to make multiple mistakes in their lives. What he didn't expect, however, was the light of the doorway to reveal the most stunning man he had ever seen. At first it was just a silhouette. A tall, lean man posed deliciously in the entrance. But then the light faded and Oswald had a clearer view of the man who was dressed head to toe in delightful green hues. Oswald's first, initial thought was 'Who wears a suit to a nightclub?' before looking at himself and smiling dumbly at his own purple suit. His second though was to question 'why on earth is thi wonderful man not one of my fabulous workers?' He would sure look the part. Then Oswald's third and final fleeting thought was 'Oh dear, he' coming this way.'

Oswald shuffled, rapidly attempting to right himself before the man reached the bar. Smoothing the front of his suit with his hands, ruffling his own hair and straightening his cufflinks in an attempt to look at least a little presentable in his slightly drunken state. Oswald leaned forward, his arms folded on the bar (trying his best to look cool and collected) eyeing the man as he practically sauntered to the chair next to him. He then proceeded to, very rudely, ignore Oswald and order a very fruity drink that Oswald didn't catch the name of because he was too busy being both blow away by the mans beauty and deeply offended by his ignorance.

"Are you not going to introduce yourself?" Oswald scoffed over the ambient music. "I am the owner of this establishment, you know?" He questioned. Trying his best to keep hi tone even and a little polite because for some strange reason, he was sure that making this man angry was not a very smart idea.  
"Hmm, It's a nice club...Penguin." The man threw back. His voice floating like thick smoke towards Oswald's ears and fogging his mind.

"Forgive me.." Oswald muttered through gritted teeth. Attempting, for some reason unbeknownst to him, to restart the awkward conversation in a lighter tone. The man turned to the Penguin, glancing up and down, almost observing him before nodding at him to continue.  
"I believe we got off on the wrong foot, which was entirely my fault, I am a little on edge. My name, is Oswald Cobblepot."  
Oswald held out his hand for the man to shake but he didn't take it. In fact, the man just stared down at Oswald's small hands . He stared with such curiosity and wonder that Oswald hadn't even retracted his hand. Eventually the handsome man took his hand and shook it delicately. As if afraid he was going to shatter.  
"Edward Nygma."

Oswald's eyes widened in shock at the recollection of the mans name. He knew he had recognised that shade of green. The man sat with him was THE Edward Nygma. Former part of the GCPD, part time inmate at Arkham and the man that Oswald had been admiring for months. His crime scenes were marvellous to say the least.  
"The Riddler, I presume?" Oswald asked, just to be sure.  
Ed smirked evilly, his eyes screaming danger but his body language strangely enticing.  
"The very same."

Edward led the conversation from then on, ordering Oswald a drink both to apologise for his rudeness and congratulate him on his success. It didn't take very long for Oswald to feel comfortable in Ed's presence. So comfortable, in fact, that the conversation topic had drifted towards his mother (where Oswald had shamefully shed a tear). The two were now sat so close that their thighs were practically touching and Oswald could feel the heat radiating from the other man. Every time Oswald shifted way from Nygma out of embarrassment for being 'too eager', Ed moved himself closer. Almost in reassurance the he was having a good time too and he wanted to be close to him as well.

"Aside from your crimes, Mr Riddler," Oswald begun. His voice a mix of sarcasm and flirting. "What do you do for a living?"

Edward Nygma pulled his eyes away from observing the rest of Oswald to meet his gaze. The voice inside him told him to be reasonable and to answer professionally. Without flirtation at all, because as far as he knew, he wasn't gay. However, the more dominant, confident voice inside him fuelled his response.

"What is everywhere, nowhere. Everything and nothing at the same time?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. He had obviously expected this from the renowned Riddler but nevertheless, it still made him groan. Oswald had never exactly enjoyed riddles of jokes as he was usually the punch-line. In this case, however, the person behind the riddle was hot.

"Pray tell, Nygma."  
"Anything you want."

Oswald's blush followed the whiteness of his skin from his cheeks the tips of his ears and nose. Edward laughed a little at the reaction he had gotten and how flustered he had managed to make the man, before going silent as Oswald reached for his glass. Grabbing the bottom of the wine glass delicately with his dainty fingers. Throwing the wine down his throat and scrunching his eyes up at the familiar yet awful taste.

"Your hands are very pretty, Oswald." Edward said without even thinking about it. He blushed and clasped his own hand over his mouth when he realised what he had said.

Despite it being the weirdest, nicest and only compliment Oswald had ever received from anyone other than his mother, the man smiled. Revelling in the fascinated look on Ed's face and for the first time in his life, Oswald didn't feel scrutinised under somebodies gaze. In the end, Nygma left his card on the bar as it closed, after hours of talking and flirting awkwardly.

Edward Nygma~ AKA The Riddler.  
Call me for a Riddle or don't call me at all.


	26. Phan~Mr Brightside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan, Phil and Louise go to a nightclub to celebrate Dan's 27th birthday. Dances are had, jealousy is felt and noses are broken.
> 
> Enjoy.

Ahh, sweet twenty seven. 

Dan somehow felt impossibly older than he actually was but he was gradually feeling younger in this dingy club. Dan was definitely having the time of his life on the dance floor with two of his dearest friends. Louise had managed to sneak out of her mothering duties to join him on his birthday, despite Dan telling her that it wasn't that big of a deal. However, now that she was here he was having so much fun. Louise was making up ridiculous dance moves and eyeing him from across the room whenever something hilariously awkward happened. Which, for Dan and Louise, was every five minutes. Dan wasn't sure what it was about Louise, but whenever she was around it was like every ounce of sadness was blown away in an instant. To the point where Dan didn't even mind being surrounded by dozens of sweaty teens who had no idea what personal space was, as long as he could laugh at Louise's robot dance moves, he was happy.

Phil had obviously also joined them, albeit reluctantly. His brain had reasoned with him that Dan's birthday was far more important than his anxiety of being in an enclosed space with far too many people. It was worth it to see Dan having fun and not worrying about his problems or anybody else. Phil had only ever been to one University party anyways and he didn't really remember much of it. Other than the fact that he had spent the last half of it hyperventilating alone in the bathroom of a strangers dorm. Phil was confident that this time would be different though. He had his new friends and he was older now, a tad more responsible (if that was possible).

Speaking of the tall, clumsy man. Phil had eventually managed to find his way back from the bar. Weaving in and out of grinding bodies, dangerously balancing three drinks in his arms, Hoping and praying that his feet would listen to him this time and that he would make it back to Dan and Louise without spilling a drop. Unfortunately, Phil's feet weren't cooperating and the three only had half full drinks but none of them really seemed to care. As long as they were drinking.

After about half and hour of dancing and getting progressively more smashed, Phil and Louise spotted an empty booth and practically jumped into it. Making sure to occupy it before any other friend groups had the chance. The two were complaining that their bones were far too old to keep up with Dan's spry moves. Louise' excuse was that baring two children, though she would take it back, had its drawbacks. And that, though it had filled her heart, it had also drained her spirits. Phil's was that he simply couldn't dance. Which... wasn't entirely a lie but was yet to be decided.

Dan, however, refused to stop dancing and instead opted to stay in the middle of the movements, alone. Too drink to give any fucks anymore. He decided that, since it was his birthday, Dan wanted to get as hammered as he possibly could and have his friends carry him home at the end of the night. So, he kept darting between the dance floor and the bar. Swaying slowly until all he could feel was the pulse of the music and the alcohol in his veins.

Phil watched his best friend, of many years, dance from the side-lines. His heart constantly ding tiny little flips in his chest. Dying to pull his body forwards and join Dan on the floor but Phil stayed put. The man had tried to deny his feelings for Dan for quite a while but to no avail. Ever since that misty day at the train station in 2009, Phil had been infatuated with the younger boy. His soft chocolate curls and his brown eyes, and his tendency to be hateful towards himself despite the beauty he encapsulated. Phil never truly understood that. How could somebody so vibrant, so beautiful... even remotely dislike themselves? Still, Phil found it strangely endearing and since that day he had been hurtling further and further down the rabbit hole in his heart.

Louise knowingly smirked in Phil's general direction. Watching the two boys interact was funny to her and a little sad at the same time. They were both very clearly attracted to each other but neither of them seemed to have a clue that the other liked them a smidge past friendship. Louise had known that they were made for each other, soul-mates, ever since she met the boys. Just watching Phil's eyes follow Dan's movements on the dance floor and Dan's little glances at Phil when he thought that nobody was watching. It was just so clear to her. They were far too close to be 'just friends'.

Dan's mind was foggy as he followed the beat of the music. Which explained why he didn't seem to react very negatively to a strange person in his vicinity. Dan looked up, a drunken smile on his face as he took in the figure in front of him. The man was tall yet still smaller that Dan. (Which was weird to him because he was so used to looking up at Phil rather than looking down.) His hair looked un-groomed, in wild, messy curls ad his eyes reflected the neon green lights in the club. The man was shirtless, which wasn't entirely shocking due to the fact that they were in a night club. His body was riddled with far too many muscles and it wasn't really Dan's type when it comes to a man. In Dan's opinion, the muscles were too much and his softer features were blotched out by the harsh lines of his body. But, right now, the man was with him and dancing while Phil and Louise were tucked away so, Dan couldn't really complain.

After his brief inspection, Dan went back to his swaying. Not focusing (and not exactly wanting to focus) on how the mans hands glided to his hips and bracketed his waist. Dan was too far gone to care about how the man was invading his personal space and getting way too close for comfort because, honestly? It was nice to have someone to move with. He danced with the man while picturing Phil vaguely in his drunken mind. The way his finger tips found their way under his favourite potato-sack sweater and how his eyes were staring at Dan's lips. Wishing to devour him at the first opportunity.

However, just because Dan was indifferent, didn't mean that Phil was okay with this. He was so far from okay with this. Dan may have been picturing Phil dancing with him but all that Phil could see was his best friend (biggest crush) dancing suggestively with a strange man who was getting way too friendly. Phil felt like his eyes were burning out of their sockets as he watched Dan being practically undressed in the middle of the dance floor. Phil wasn't happy with the current situation but he couldn't exactly make a move because, well, that would reveal the feelings that he wished he didn't have and jeopardize their friendship that was way too precious to Phil. He couldn't control who Dan danced with even though it made his heart shudder.

The man was behind Dan now. His hands still on Dan's waist and his pointed teeth nibbling on the bottom of Dan's ear. Dan wasn't exactly focusing up to that point. He had been dancing and grinding and getting generally lost in the music. The man wasn't exactly harming him or bothering him in any way, they were only dancing. Then the strangers lips moved from the bottom of Dan's ear to the base of his neck and it was like a flip switched in Dan's mind. This man.. wasn't Phil. He was a stranger in a dingy club, who was touching him. The man, very clearly, knew that Dan was far too drink to give consent yet his hands were still roaming his body. Dan tried to pull away, but the man was stronger and he wouldn't let go of him.

Phil was stood up at that point. He had been watching Dan so intently that he had pinpointed the exact moment, the change in Dans posture and attitude. His legs started moving towards the two before he could even process the ground moving beneath him. His feet, for once, deciding to cooperate in order to save Dan from this compromising position.

When Phil reached the men in the centre of the dance floor, he couldn't see the neon lights or he flashing of the strobes. All he saw was blazing fire and a strong red before he felt the mans cheek collide with his delicate fist. Dan's arms wrapped around him almost immediately. Phil's eyes refocused and Dan pulled him off of the man on the floor of the club. Louise had noticed the commotion and ran over to help and the teens had all gathered around them. Staring in astonished horror, eyes flitting from the bloody mess of a man on the floor, to the innocent, small looking man with the blood on his knuckles.

Phil turned to Dan sheepishly, expecting to be faced with fear in Dan's small brown eyes. Instead, the eyes that locked with his were full of left-over-lust and love. Near adoration. Dan was searching Phil's eyes desperately for any sign that he didn't feel the same way about him. 

"Phil?" Dan whispered, as the chatter and music restarted. His arms still firmly wrapped around Phil's waist.  
"I'm sorry, Dan. I don't know what that was. I-I just saw you and him.. and you didn't want it... and his hands were all over you. But, I know, I-I shouldn't have don-"

"Phil! Just...take me home... please."

Phil sighed, in the relief that Dan didn't hate him and that instead he wanted to go back to their flat with him and that he wasn't afraid. He had even called it home. Phil released himself from Dan's arms only to join hands with him and drag him out of that dreadful bar. Louise close behind them, apologising and giggling at the shocked faces around them.

Louise was happy for Phil and Dan, watching them leave the club hand in hand, whispering promises of future birthdays. She only wished that they could have given each other flowers and chocolates instead of starting fights in night clubs.

Ah, sweet twenty seven.


	27. Sterek~Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As part of an FBI case, Stiles has to catch notorious criminal Derek Hale. However, It doesn't go how he had originally planned.

In Officer Stiles Stilinski's personal opinion, as a stable member of the FBI, this case was closed. Derek Hale. It had to be him. It was logical and probable and not at all concluded by the fact that Stiles had lost all of his patience and needed to close this case quickly. He was already being hounded by his superiors to solve his first ever, real case as part of the FBI and he really wanted them off his back. No matter how much Stiles wanted to be part of law enforcement, he didn't desire to be hounded the entire time.

Stiles blew warm hair into his freezing hands as he perused through the parking lot of an almost empty mall. His gun (Which he had no real intention of firing, no matter the danger.) in one hand and a torch illuminating his path in the other. Mulling around the last known location of Derek Hale, searching for any evidence at all that could land him this solve.

It had been Stiles first week on a case like this in the special agent unit. They had been briefed on it this morning and the details were coursing through Stiles' mind. A group of young, seemingly innocent, men found dead in a parking lot. Their chests ripped open from their collarbones to their hips and their necks seeping with blood. The only evidence left was a blurred image of a shirtless man with a tribal tattoo on a security camera.

Stiles had been not so secretly, very obviously obsessed with Derek Hale for weeks. Months even. Which would be creepy if it wasn't entirely professional. To be honest, it was MOSTLY professional, but Stiles always loved the fiery feeling that he felt in his stomach whenever he saw Derek Hale involved in a crime. They were mainly little misdemeanours until now. It wasn't that he was happy that Derek had been possibly committing crimes, but the man was so mysterious and interesting and Stiles still hadn't managed to catch him. If anything, it was now a challenge. A challenge that Stiles was determined to win.

This time, Stiles was determined to get the man in handcuffs and dragged back to the station. Even if Derek wasn't guilty, Stiles would be satisfied with simply meeting and capturing the guy. Bringing him in for questioning and finally getting his bosses off of his back. Stiles just wanted to be the one that had solved this. The top dog of the FBI, just to make his Dad proud.

That was Stiles' motivation for doing this. His inkling of stupid bravery as he stalked around the empty parking lot, stepping over blood stains and not realising that he was being stalked too. In the shadows the man lingered. Claws poised and teeth bared before he realised who the stranger was and his muscles relaxed.

Derek was sure that he was being followed and this had confirmed his theory. He was always right. However, there was also something that he had gotten wrong. Derek had originally believed that he was being followed by someone threatening, someone to be afraid of. Now, as he surveyed the small man from his hidden spot behind a car, he couldn't help the chuckle of disbelief that erupted from his chest.

Stiles spun around the instant he heard the noise. His torch shaking in his hand and his voice breaking when he finally managed to speak up and ask who was there. The torch light flitting across the empty parking lot manically. Glaring against headlights and fading into the blackness of the distance before finally landing on a figure. Bright, red eyes glowing back at him and sharp teeth glinting in the light.

Stiles was debating between screaming in fear and running as far as he could before eventually getting caught and standing up to whoever... or whatever, it was. However, before he could decide, the figure was gone and he felt a sharp pain to the side of his head and fell to the floor. Everything turned black and numb, but through it all he could feel strong arms grab and pull him up. Carrying him to some unknown destination that Stiles didn't care to think of right now.

Stiles woke up gradually in a dimly lit room. The walls and floor were made of old wooden boards. Some of which were burnt and eroded away. Paint that seemed to once be vibrant was now chipped and frayed and what Stiles assumed were picture frames were cracked and broken on the floor. The pictures removed and the glass spread across the wood.

The young agent attempted to move his arms and get up from the wooden chair that he was in, but was stopped in his tracks by an uncomfortable bind on his wrists. Stiles blinked a few times and looked down, clearing his blurry vision and finally seeing the ropes that were tying his arms and legs to the chair that was situated in the middle of the decaying room.

Stiles was about to call out for either help or to just see who was there, before a shadow appeared in the doorway. Illuminated by a hanging light bulb, his sharp features were accentuated by the yellow splash of light. Looking like a true bond villain making a drama queen entry. Derek Hale stepped into the room, smirking when he saw Stiles' shocked and yet not displeased expression.

"Hale." Stiles bit out. Struggling a little against his binds. He knew he wanted to meet and capture Derek Hale but, dammit, not like this.   
"Yes, Officer Stilinski?"  
"Put. That. Down." Stiles gritted through his teeth at the man who was currently holding his life's worth between his fingertips.

Derek brushed his thumb over the engraved name on Stiles' badge. Revelling in the danger that he felt while holding it. So close, yet so far from getting caught. Derek begrudgingly listened to the younger man. placing his little badge back on the small table next to Stiles' gun before pulling out a chair and sitting down across from the agent.

"You've been following me, Stilinski." He stated, allowing a little glimmer of red to flicker in his eyes. Just to cement the fact that Stiles wasn't safe in his presence at all.  
"You're a suspect, Hale. What was I supposed to do? Let you run free?"  
"You should have."

Stiles shuffled back in his chair as Derek stood up, attempting and failing to get away. The claws on Derek's left hand wandered dangerously closely to Stiles' cheek. The agent tilted his head to the side to avoid the sharp talons. Derek chuckled darkly, before retracting and sitting back down.

"What are you?" Stiles choked out. Struggling to form words both from dehydration and fear. Throughout his investigation he knew that Derek Hale was different. A mysterious outsider that kept to the shadows and avoided any social interaction. He knew that Derek Hale was vaguely dangerous but he had never expected this.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Derek mumbled. A lilt of flirting in his tone as he added on the pet name. Trying his best to sound very intimidating and to get under the cute officers skin.

Stiles closed his eyes at that point. Giving into the fact that Derek was the one with all the power in this particular situation and there wasn't really anything he could do about it. It was unsettling to say the least. The added pet name somehow freaked Stiles out and calmed him down at the same time. When Stiles finally opened his eyes to retort, he was met with Derek's face inches from his own. Auburn eyes burning and teeth dripping with saliva.

"You never seen a werewolf before?" Derek chuckled with a wink.

Stiles was screwed... really screwed.


	28. Septiplier-Alone no longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean is spending his night in a bar down the road and gets an American visitor that's too hot to imagine.

Sean sat alone in his usual bar, on his usual stool, sipping his usual drink. An ice-cold glass of Jack Daniels and coke. He wasn't particularly interested in drinking but there wasn't much else to do. His typical day had ended typically. Sean had finished his little recordings and updated his social media accounts and, though it very rarely happened, Sean had an hour or two to spare before he needed to sleep and recharge for another day. Another day of exactly the same thing. He loved doing YouTube but some days it felt a little draining. So, he came here. A little pub called O'Tooles . Just a walk away from his little cabin in the woods. The barkeep was nice and the locals weren't rowdy. It was just little hide away for Sean to relax, re-cooperate and think.

The night had been quiet so far. Well, as quiet as a stormy, Saturday night in July could be. There was very little chatter above the sound of subtle rain against the stained glass windows. Sean swivelled around in his seat and lent back against the bar. His elbows resting on the mahogany and his eyes scanning across the usual patrons of the bar. Sean thought of these people as his friends in his little town, though they had never spoken or exchanged eye contact in the couple of years that he had been drinking in O'Tooles.

There was the wonderful barkeep. Who he had gotten progressively more comfortable with since his first stuttered order. Her name was Rhys and she had strong, orange hair in untameable curls. She was a spit fire and anyone who dared to cross her was in for a surprise, because Rhys, could definitely defend herself. According to the story that she had given Sean on his third week at O'Tooles, she was working there to keep her landlord happy. However, in Sean's personal opinion, Rhys enjoyed working here. Pulling pints and laughing with the locals, and if you asked her to leave, she'd probably punch you.

Then there was the little old couple, Laura and Jim. Both were at least seventy by now and had spent their entire lives together. Every Saturday night, they would put on their little coats and take each others hand. Wandering through their little town to the bar they had fell in love. They'd sit In the corner of the old bar, telling stories of how simple it once was. Sean could practically feel the love radiating between them and it made him feel a little lonely as he sat on his usual stool.

The bar was pretty much empty other than the four of them and a few stragglers that came in and out. Party animals looking for another bar to hit before falling on their faces and regretting it a day later, and sad old men looking for something similar. Or just some beer to wash away the pain. As well as that, there was the odd tourist who would marvel at the decor and the feel of the place. The smell of the wood and the splash of lights. They would gush over the Irish twang in Rhys's greetings and they'd laugh at a table for a while before heading off to see another sight.

Which is just what Sean thought of the handsome man who had just strolled into O'Tooles. Hands in his pockets and a wistful look in his eyes. There was no way that he wasn't a tourist. If there had been a man that attractive in Sean's little town, he would've known about it. This man was definitely a tourist. His eyes had a touch of Asian descent but he didn't look particularly Asian (Not that Sean would mind that, at all.) Then, when the man finally got to the bar, he spoke... and Sean froze.

"Hey. Could I have a glass of lemonade, please?"

The mans voice was so deep that it shook within Sean. He was sure that the ground beneath his feet rumbled with the grumble of it. The gravelly tone sent a shiver down his spine and that accent... was to die for.  
"We don't get many Americans around here, love." Rhys commented to which the man chuckled. He mentioned something about a friend that he had come to see to go to a gaming convention with before finally taking his drink and sitting beside Sean. Who had turned back to the bar and averted his eyes. A crimson blush evident on his cheeks.

The two boys were silent for a while. Sean was far too nervous to start a conversation or even say hello and the man seemed to be comfortable checking his phone in the silence. Sean took these few moments as a chance to quietly survey the strange, new man. His hair was as black as the sky outside the bar and it had a certain bounce to it (the fluff was strong). Like it was getting too long but the man wasn't ready to cut it yet. Sean also subconsciously noticed the definition of muscle under the mans red and black flannel shirt and blushed even more. Sean went to take another sip from his drink before noticing that it was empty. Before he could call on Rhys to get him another, the American man finally spoke up.

"Hi. My names Mark. Can I get you a drink?"

Sean's movements paused for a second. He said Marks name in his head. Rolling it around in his mind and enjoying how it sounded. Now that he had matched a name to the body he felt a tad more comfortable with him but was still hesitant to accept his offer. Not wanting to be a burden. Mark raised his eyebrows at him and smirked.

"Eh, what's the harm?" Sean smiled and nodded. Accepting Marks offer and trying to ignore the little giggle that mark let out when he heard Sean's accent.

Mark ordered Sean a Jack and coke as he was observant and he had noticed him drinking it when he had walked in. Once he was finished conversing with Rhys and Sean had a now full glass in front of him, Mark turned to face the brown haired man. Sean gave him a confused look, baffled as to how he had 'guessed' what drink to order before shaking it off and taking a sip. Mark was the one to start and lead the conversation, clearly more comfortable than Sean was.

"So, I told you my name was Mark.. what's yours?"

Sean blushed again. Realising that he had been too busy internally freaking out to tell Mark what his name was.  
"It's Sean. Sorry, I'm a little under the weather."

Sean tried to blow it off as simple illness but Mark was having none of it. He could see the blushes that the Irish man was trying to hide. Noticed every time Sean's eyes rolled over his body and then looked away.

"Don't pretend with me, Sean. I see how you look at me." Mark spoke directly and confidently. Not breaking eye contact for a second and Sean didn't know how to react at first. Eventually, he stuttered some garbage along the lines of,  
"I-I.. wasn't looking. I think you-you've got the wrong idea."

Mark laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh or an annoyed laugh but it still made Sean feel a little stupid. Now Mark knew that Sean found him attractive and it clearly made him uncomfortable in Sean's eyes. So, now, Sean was the freak again. After his track record of attempting to flirt or get relationships throughout school and university, Sean knew that this was a road that didn't end well. Partly the reason that Sean was alone in his usual bar was that he didn't have any friends to drink with. He was used to it now but it still hurt. So he downed the rest of his drink and stood up, taking his jacket off of the stool and getting ready to leave. Before he could, however, Mark reached for his arm and caught him, making him spin around. The look in Marks eyes were purely apologetic and Sean felt the pit in his stomach alleviate slightly.

"Look, Sean, I didn't mean it like that. I'm not angry or disgusted or weirded out. It's just... I hoped you were attracted to me because, well, you're not so bad yourself." Mark concluded with a warm smile.

Sean re-considered, putting down his coat and sitting back at his usual stool, In his usual bar. Except, this time... he wasn't alone.


	29. A/N Thank you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to scan over this chapter as it's basically a thank you note, lmao

Hey, I just wanted to say thank you to everybody that has read this weird little concoction of fanfiction so far.  
I started this as a little project for when I was bored but it has kind off turned into a vent place for when I feel like the world isn't a very cool place.  
Basically, I really appreciate you guys reading this. All 1 and a half thousand of you.. jesus christ.  
Thanks   
Seriously

As a side note, if you guys have any ideas or suggestions for ships or scenarios that you want to see on future chapters, leave a comment on this one and I will absolutely get back to you. I'm kinda running dry on inspiration.

Not to sound like a broken record, but thanks again.  
~Alex


	30. reasons to go to school-Gallavich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate meeting in which Mickey skips class regularly and Isn only skips once.

Ian crashed clumsily through the doors of his run down high school yet again. Another day in his slow life coming and going and being basically boring all together. He adjusted lips old backpack on his shoulders and trudged through the semi crowded hall to his first lesson. Ian had never really been the always-on-time teachers pet that fiona seems to think he was but he didn't really mind school, as a whole. It was a way to pass the time and if he really put his head down and worked hard, he would eventually manage to get into the cadettes and away from the south side.

Mickey, on the other hand, couldn't stand school. He hated it with every fiber of his very short being but was still forced (by his father) to attend. However, just because he had to attend didn't mean that he had to be present in every single lesson. Therefore, Mickey spent most of his days behind the school instead of in it, smoking weed with his friends and talking about the 'new girl in school.' Mcikey didn't mind his friends most days, but sometimes it felt like they didn't have a full brain cell between them and he couldn't hold a steady conversation with any of them. So this time, instead of being a degenerate with his 'friends' he decided to be one on his own and walk the halls of the school by himself. Noone would question him anyway, he was Mickey fucking milkovich.

It was currently getting close to the end of the day but there was one last class the Ian was required to attent. Arguably, the most important class according to his rotc instructor. Gym. Usually, Ian was soar through it, too of the class, quick as possible and straight home in his gym shorts when it ended. Today, however, he was feeling particularly down when it came to his body image. He knew he wasn't at all fat but he also felt like he was lacking in other departments. Everytime he was in the changing rooms with the other boys he couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the toned chests and abs of the other boys. This wasn't at all because he was gay but because he felt like he was a boy still trying to hit puberty while everybody else were sprouting body hair. So, Ian decided that today, he just wasn't going to show up.

So, instead, Ian found himself cautiously rounding corners and attempting to avoid teachers and janitors. If fiona found out that he was skipping lessons hed probably be grounded, even though fiona wasn't his mother. Ian wandered around for a little while before realising that it would probably be easier, and less risky, to just leave school and walk the streets for an hour before heading home. With this new destination in sight, Ian was now briskly walking the halls, heading towards the entrance. He was walking so briskly in fact that he didn't notice the slick black hair infront of him before their chests collided and the boy was on the floor in front of him. It was obvious when Ian looked at him that this guy was older than him and very angry at the fact that he had just been knocked over from simply being walked into. Ian extended a hand to help the boy up but his hand was slapped away and he pulled himself up, dusting off his shirt and Jean's before giving Ian a death glare.

Ian's first thought upon seeing this man was that he was going to be dead before he could make it home. He was already planning what he wanted on his gravestone and his life was ready to flash before his eyes. However, Ian's second thought was that this man in front of him was the definition of beautiful. From his jet black hair, to his strong arms and his sparkling blue eyes. Even his scowl was pretty to Ian, but he couldn't get into something like this right now. A headfirst crush on a guy who was older than him and probably straight? No thanks. So Ian simply blushed, scratching the back of his neck and muttering out an apology that would hopefully be good enough so that the beautiful specimen wouldn't smash his head into a locker.

"What the hell, red? Watch where you're going next time, bitch." The boy gritted the warning through his teeth. Ignoring the pretty green eyes staring back at him and attempting violence as a defence mechanism. After a few beats of silence, however, Mickey felt a little awkward and took pity on the ginger boy standing in front of him.

"Names Mickey. You're not some kind of hall monitor that's gonna get me in trouble are ya?" Mickey asked, a hint of a smile on his face because he knew that if the boy was a snitch, he'd get to beat the hell out of him and release his pent up anger.

"No. No. I'm skipping too, dont worry. I'm Ian." 

Ian smiled, extending his hand as a formal greeting but retracting it again when Mickey stared at his hand as is he had some disease or he didn't know what a handshake was.

"Hey, were drawing attention out in the open. C'mere!"   
Mickey whisper/yelled, grabbing Ian's arm and pulling him into a conveniently empty classroom and locking the dlr when they were safely inside. Ian's hand rubbed at the spot on his arm where mickeys hand previously was. Simultaneously trying to diffuse the ache and missing mickeys touch, as weird as that sounds. Mickey pulled out a chair at the far end of the class, sitting down and putting his feet up on the wooden desk. He lit up a cigarette before gesturing for Ian to sit down in the chair opposite him. Ian shuffled over, his long-ish ginger hair falling into his eyes as he drops into the seat. Mickey offers him a drag of his cigarette and Ian accepts gratefully. 

Mickey watches Ian intently as he puts the cigarette to his lips and breaths in deeply. His eyes flutter closed and his cheeks dust a shade of pink, when he finally reopened his eyes Mickey averted his quickly. Clearing his throat and blushing slightly. Mickey, in a desperate attempt to think of anything other than Ian's face and lips and eyes and hair, asks Ian why he skipped class in the first place.

"Oh, it's nothing really. Kind of stupid, actually. I was supposed to be in gym but everyone in gym looks better than me. So, I though, instead of embarrassment I would risk detention."

Mic,ey wouldve laughed at Ian's pathetic story and problems if it was any of his other friends talking to him. But it wasn't, it was a small ginger boy who looked like he genuinely believed that everyone was better than him. Mickey swung his feet down from the table and looked Ian directly in his eyes, trying his best to sound confident and assuring when saying this.

"Who gives a fuck what other people look like? You're doing pretty good for a guy your age so I'm sure that you're not lacking anything at all so dont put yourself down."

Ian smiled and giggled lightly. Definitely not expecting something like that to come from somebody that looked like bully was there middle name. Mickey scoffed and looked away, mumbling something along the lines of 'dont ever tell anyone I said that, nerd'. Ian looked Mickey over again, a second take if you will. Noticing the crease in his brow and the freckles dusting his cheeks that were barely visible and that small hint of a smile that tugged on his lips, desperate to burst.

"Thanks, mick."  
"Hey, who the fuck said you could call me that, freckles?"   
Mickey raised his eyebrows but Ian just laughed. Now pretty confident in the fact that Micky wasn't going to knock him out if he said the wrong thing usually boys like Ian would annoy Mickey to no end but for some reason, Ian seemed to have a free pass when it came to talking back and taking the mick out of him.

"Hey, do you need a tutor for any of your lessons?" Ian asked. Desperately searching for a reason to see Mickey again after this. Not wanting to let an opportunity go to waste.  
Mickey drowned at first, thinking that Ian was insulting his intelligence. However, once henshaw the look in Ian's eyes he knew the boys motivation and mcikey wasn't going to lie (except he was going to lie, a lot, to himself and his dad) he wanted to see Ian again too. He was a good pal to hang out with, he could hold a conversation and he was smarter than ahis other friends so it would only be logical to see Ian again.

"I do in fact. You see, I skip lessons frequently..." Mickey trailed off with a smirk, their conversation slipping into addresses and times for tutoring and Mickey was the happiest hed been in a while. Turns out that some good things can come from going to school


	31. A promise is a promise - Gallavich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is back to his old dancing ways to help out Mickey and Yvgeney when one night something goes horribly wrong.

Ian threw his head back and rolled his hips, the strobe lights hitting his eyes and his orange hair falling over his face. The music pumped and vibrated the speakers, finding its way to Ians veins as he danced on the small elevated platform in the seedy bar. He had promised himself and Mickey that he would never revert back to this. It was one of the worst times of his life and he just wanted to forget it. Unfortunately, money was short and Yvgeney was sick and in the true way of a gallagher, Ian wasnt going to sit back and watch it fall apart around him. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The tall, red-headed man threw a wink at several of the sad, old men that had chosen to spend their evening watching Ian dance. The attention didn't phase him that much and when he walked away from it all, he didnt feel dirty at all. He was just payed to dance and look nice, to make money for his family. If this was the way he had to do it then so be it. However, he maintained his pride and would never go as far as to prostitute himself, he was far too loyal to Mickey now. Still, that didn't stop the elderly perverts from touching ian and 'wanting to have their way with him'. Luckily, this was a relatively nice establishment with security and those bozos were kicked out as soon as Ian said the word.

Ian was perfectly fine with dancing for some people as it was barely more than two minutes and then he was back on the platform. That wasn't enough for some though, splashing their money around and demanding a private dance. Ian accepted this rarely as he was wary about private dances, because he kept most of his personal belongings in his private room and he didn't trust many of the people that entered the club. So, naturally, Ian had a body guard stand outside so that he felt safer and so that someone was there to help him if he needed. His bodyguards name was Neil and he was big and threatening. No-one would challenge him.

Never-the-less, Ian always felt wrong when someone other than Mickey was invited into his private, personal space. Some one who wasn't the man that he was in love with. Which is one of the reasons why, Ian seemed a little unenthusiastic as he led a man through the purple curtains that led to the back room. The man had shoved hundered dollar bills in his face, practically begging for a private dance. Neil looked at Ian suspiciously, searching to see if ian was uncomfortable. Ian just stopped and nodded at him, throwing up a peace sign (a signal to show that all was consensual) before continuing with the man to his own room. "Firecrotch" was written on the door in permanent marker from the first time that Ian had brought Mickey here. Ian smiled a little, remembering that wild night. He couldn't wait to get home.

The man that Ian had brought to his room wasnt exactly his target audience. Ian ususally attracted creepy, old weird men who were 'into younger guys'. It grossed Ian out but he was of age and money was money. Usually, if he was genuinly concerned and worried about the men, he would call the police after their encounter. This man, however, was in his mid twenties and was slightly attractive. He was a stereotypical 'in the closet' jock type that was constantly looking behind his shoulder and eyeing Ian up like he was his next conquest. Ian didn't usually find those specific people attractive (aside from Mickey) but was not entirely opposed to the idea of dancing for this man.

"I don't like getting dances from married dudes." The man, Derek or something, stated. Gesturing to Ians hand.

Ian looked down to his hand in mild confusion befoe smiling and chuckling when he realised what the man was talking about. The purple lights that Ian had asked to be in his room glinted along the silver ring that rested on his wedding finger. It was the same ring that Mickey had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago. The most important physical object that Ian still owned. It helped to remind Ian that Mickey actually loved him, despite how much of a dick he could be sometimes. It was a symbol of their love and Ian hadn't taken it off for anyone.

"I'm not married, its just a promise ring." Ian replied, casually fiddling with the ring and twisting it on his finger. He took a sip of his drink that was usually waiting for him in his room before guiding Derek to a dimly lit corner of the room with a plush sofa against the wall. The guy still seemed uncomfortable but sat down anyway, however, before Ian could get to it, he spoke up again.

"Could you just take it off?" The man asked, clearly begining to get frustrated from the impatient look in his eyes. Ian definitely did not want to take off the ring Mickey gave him but it was almost certain that, if he didnt, he wouldnt be getting any money for this dance tonight. It was never wise to argue with paying customers. They would either leave with their money and not come back, which was bad for business, or they would flip out and start getting handsy, which was just bad for everyone. 

Ian sighed defeatedly, walking over to the dressing table on the adjacent side of the room that he had asked for. He pulled out the small velvet box that he had bought specfically for this ring, though he never had planned on taking it off. Ian winced a little as he twisted the ring and took it off of his finger, placing it delicately in the box and breathing deeply. He turned to derek with a fake, forced smile, his arms stretched wide.

"Happy now?"

Ian waltzed beck over to the man, his hand feeling empty and cold but he knew he had to push on. Derek was now smirking coyly, his legs wide and trying his best to look seductive. Ian layed down the very simple rules: No touching, no innapropriate comments and 100% no agression. He then got down to business, letting the show get underway.

They had gotten half way through the booked time that the man had asked for, Derek being relatively respectful throughout, before Ian heard his name being called from outside the room by Neil. A commotion had started from on the otherside of the door, something that Ian was sure that Neil could handle. However, it took one sentence from one voice for Ian to know that Neil had no chance of stopping the person.

"Let me the fuck in, asshole!"  
Mickey was here.

Ian made some flimsy excuse before jumping off of Derek's lap, promising to make it up to him or pay him back. The man seemed hesitant, like he was going to resist, but Ian was already on the other side of the room, slamming the door behind him as he left. Mickey was still dressed up in his black work shirt and tie, meaning he was already pretty stressed. His eyes were furrowed in anger as he confronted the body guard who was attempting to stop him from getting to Ian. Before things turned violent, because Ian knew they would, he decided to speak up.

"Neil! Neil, it's ok! He's my boyfriend." Ian descalated the situation pretty well as Neil muttered under his breath and walked away. Ian smiled when, instead of recoiling and denying their relationship like he used to, Mickey hugged him and seemed to relax in his presence. Ians shoulders dropped when he was embraced by Mickey's arms, allowing himself a moment of happiness before having to worry about why Mickey was here. He usually didnt enjoy even talking about Ians work, let alone being exactly where it happens. Mickey prided himself on jealousy.

"What's going on Mick?" Ian asked when Mickey released him from the death grip he had on him. Mickey looked around a little to make sure noone was perving on them before standing up on his tiptoes and kissing Ian softly. He was still a little anxious from all the times he had to hide his relationship but he was getting better at being comfortable in public. Mickey pulled back and stroked Ians cheek who looked at him with a confused and slightly worried expression.

"I just missed you is all. Yvgeney has been crying all day for you. He's just been looking at me and blowing raspberries cause thats what he does with you."

Ian laughed a little, picturing Yvgeney's little face in his head. He let Mickey know that he was going to get rid of the guy in his room and that he'd be out in a minute. Ian yelled to Neil that Mickey could come in whenever he wanted and pushed through the door whil Mickey, begrudgedly waited outside.

The minute that Ian reentered the room, he noticed several things seemingly out of place and different that had changed since he left. The man was no longer on the couch in the corner of the room, infact, he wasnt in the room at all. Thankfuly, there were a couple of hundered dollar bills on the table with a note that Ian assumed was Dereks number. Ian pocketed the moeny and threw the number in the trash along with the others that he had receieved during the time he had worked for this club. He never took the numbers home and he never called them again, it was a one time dance that meant nothing at all to Ian. He used to throw them away when he got home until Mickey found one and got super jealous.

Ian was about ready to leave the room entirely and go home with Mickey. His hand was rested on the door and he looked down to his bare fingers, his eyes going wide in panic. The ring Mickey gave him was not on his finger, the ring that he very rarely takes off at all, was not with him. Ian practically sprinted over to his dressing table, scrambling around in search of the box that held the priceless object. He finally found it, his fingers shaking as he tried to unlatch the clasp. Ian pulled it open and then immediately dropped the now empty box to the floor.

It wasn't there.

"What the fuck?!" Ian yelled in disbelief, running his hands through his hair and resisting the temptation to punch a wall in both anger and fear. Mickey was right by his side in less than five seconds flat after hearing Ian shout. Mickey looked like he was ready to fuck someone up until he saw that Ian was the only one in the room and, even then, he didnt relax completely. He placed a hand on Ians back and waited paitently for an explanation, all the while with a concerned look on his face.

"Did you see him leave?" Ian asked shortly, his mouth forming the words befoe thinking, gritting his teeth. Mickey looked arounfd the room again for a second, worried that he had missed something important before asking Ian what the hell he was talking about.

"The dude I was dancing with! Did you see him go?!"

"Jesus, Ian. No, i didnt see anyone leave. What's wrong?" Mickey pushed, determined to understand why his boyfriend was upset. He was trying his best to stay calm despite his increasing levels of panic and stress.

"The ring... Mickey he stole your promise ring. Our ring." Ian sighed, his eyes watering a little. He practically fell into Mickeys arms when he turned to comfort the ginger boy. Ian felt so dissapointed in himself for taking it off, feeling like he had betrayed Mickey and made him feel like Ian wasnt good enough. Like he didnt appreciate the gifts that Mickey got him, which just wasnt true.

Mickey was seething. His eyes squeezed shut with rage and his hands gripping tightly to the fabric of Ians hoodie. Mickey was barely happy with Ians job as he was awake all hours of the night, but now some fucker had stolen Mickeys promise to marry Ian one day? That just wasnt going to fly. At all.

"He's gonna fucking pay for this, red. He's going to be so fucking sorry, just you wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry! Theres going to be a part two  
> sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger XD


	32. It's not your fault- Phan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: In this little ficlet, Dan's depression is talked about a little and i'm an ignorant piece of shit so I may not get things correct so please don't hate me for that.
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> Basically, Phil finds Dan's medication while cleaning around the apartment and confronts Dan about it later.

It was a quite Thursday afternoon and Phil was just doing some innocent spring cleaning around his and Dan's apartment. A little dust here, a little move around there, just to make sure things were in order. Which may have been kind of unusual for Phil considering the fact that he was a generally messy person, but he wanted to do something nice. Dan was always the one to do all of the cleaning around their apartment but for once, Phil wanted to take some of the responsibility off of Dan's shoulders. Dan always seemed so stressed whenever a little something was out of place, which confused Phil a little but he intended to make life a little easier for his flat mate.

The one thing that Phil had not intended on doing, was finding a little pill bottle with Dan's name scribbled on the side, filled with blue and red pills. Phil's first instinct when he found the bottle -in the bathroom cupboard behind some old tooth brushes and empty toothpaste tubes that he should really throw away- was to put it straight back and forget that he had ever come across it. However, curiosity got the better of the older man and he did something he probably shouldn't have. He dismissed his cleaning responsibilities and took the little pill bottle back to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop on the way there.

After a good few hours of tiring research, questioning and a little more research, Phil had come to the conclusion that Dan had some form of anxiety, depression or some other illness. Not that it was Phil's place to know this about Dan, but he still felt a little upset that Dan hadn't trusted him with this information for whatever reason. After debating it for a while and feeling a little sorry for himself, Phil placed the bottle back in its original place. Trying his best to make everything seem like it hadn't bee disturbed at all.

Phil couldn't help but wonder if it was him or his friendship that wasn't good enough for Dan. He had thought that he made Dan feel safe and happy but that clearly wasn't the case if Dan needed these pills. Before Phil could get worked up and completely angry at himself, the front door rattled as Dan got back from his supermarket trip. Phil panicked, jumping off of the couch where he was mulling over the days events and attempting to look busy. Fluffing pillows and straightening the rugs in the living room to seem natural.

"Hey, Phil?" Dan called from the tiny kitchen in their apartment, "A little help, please?" He groaned, struggling to put the bags onto the table and put everything in its designated place. Phil bolted into the kitchen, quick to take a few bags from Dan and starting to stock the fridge whilst throwing glances at Dan every now and again. Trying to see if anything was out of the ordinary in Dan's usual happy composure.

"How was the shopping trip?" Phil asked, opening the door for a conversation in the most natural way he could think of. Phil and Dan commonly asked each other how their day was and how they were feeling and so this wasn't entirely out of the ordinary. 

"It was okay, I guess. There were a few annoying slow walkers and teenagers playing their own music out loud, but other than that, it was completely mundane and boring." Dan answered, smiling at Phil from over his shoulder as he put his and Phil's boxes of cereal next to each other in the same cupboard. Pausing for a second and looking at the two boxes fondly, Dan had never been the kind of person to love domestic matters but with Phil, everything was different.

"What about you?" Dan asked, "How is the cleaning going? It looks good so far."

Phil stammered around an answer. Telling Dan, in various ways, that it was completely fine and that absolutely nothing strange had happened at all while he had gone. Considering the fact that Phil couldn't seem to find the courage to tell Dan now, he decided he would wait until later that night, when they were both in a calm head space.

After packing away their shopping (which was far too much for only two people to live off of but, whatever.) Dan and Phil went to their own bedrooms, to change into comfier clothes to sit and watch a movie in. Phil was anxious but knew that it was nearing the time that he would have to ask Da about what he had found because if he didn't ask, it would eat away at him for weeks.

After getting changed into their softer clothes and microwaving some popcorn, Dan and Phil took their places at their respective ends of the couch, flicking on the TV and falling into a semi-comfortable silence. However, after watching a good half hour of an actually interesting movie, Phil's brain was vibrating with the need to understand. Itching with the desire to know why and how the mood was so happy yet Dan was so sad.

At this point in the evening, Dan had gravitated closer to Phil, to the point where he was now layed across the sofa with his head rested on Phil's lap and Phil's hand was rested delicately in his curls. Phil bit his lip lightly, attempting to figure out how he was going to go about asking Dan about this very sensitive subject.

"Dan?" Phil whispered as Dan fiddled with the bottom of the sweater that he was currently wearing. Dan tilted his head so that he could look up at Phil, his bright brown eyes making Phil more and more hesitant every second.  
"Can I ask you something?" Dan's face changed a little at that question. From the relaxed and calm look he had moments ago, to an anxious and worried stare. However, he still nodded for Phil to continue.

"Do you have.. I mean are you.." Phil stuttered a little and then whispered out the dreaded word "depressed?" Phil asked the question cautiously, not knowing how else to word it. His heart broke a little when Dan frowned and turned his face away from Phil, waiting a few seconds before sitting up and shuffling away from Phil a little.

"Hey, Dan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upse-"

"How did you find out?" Dan interrupted, staring down at his own bare feet and only slightly glancing at Phil every few seconds to gage his reaction. His breath slow but shallow, scared of the reaction that he thought Phil would have. The real reason he hadn't told Phil In the first place was because he didn't know how Phil would react.

"I was doing the cleaning, that I said I would do.. and I found your.. your pills."

There was a long, silent pause before Phil spoke again.

"Are you not happy here? Does it have something to do with me...?"

Dan's eyes widened at that, the fact that Phil thought that it was his fault. He shuffled closer to Phil, who's eyes were watering under his glasses and he put his hand on his best friends shoulders. Dan's speciality was definitely not comforting other people, but Phil was confused and upset and Dan wanted to make sure that Phil understood what was going on. Even though he didn't plan on telling Phil any time soon, Dan wanted to make sure Phil knew that it wasn't his fault at all.

"It isn't anything for you to worry about, Phil. It isn't your fault, it's just a thing that I go through sometimes. It doesn't mean that you don't make me happy, you dork."

Phil smiled a little at that but he still seemed perplexed. The older man rotated his body to fully face Dan now, looking deep into his eyes. Trying to find the sadness that was somehow underneath the stars in Dan's brown iris'.

"But... the internet said that it was all about chemicals in your brain but that environmental factors and people could influence your mood and state of mind a lot, so I thought that maybe it was me and that I-"

"Phil! It's not that complicated. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm happy ad when I'm sad, it is not because of anything you have or haven't done." Dan insisted, pulling Phil into a tight hug to try is best to reassure him. It isn't every day that you find out that your best friend is clinically depressed and that his happiness day to day is faked.

"What can I do to help you, Dan?" Phil asked after pulling away from the hug, sniffling a little with a determined look in his eyes. Even if it wasn't anything to do with how Phil was acting, he wanted to at least make Dan feel a little better or more comfortable with him.

Dan laughed, sighing and leaning his head on Phil's shoulder, getting back into a comfortable position to continue the movie and he replied quietly:

"Just keep doing what you do all the time, you spork. You are one of the only highlights of my day. Now before we get too soppy, press play. This film was just getting good.


	33. A lovely day in. -Malec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus convinces Alec to have a day off but things don't go so well.
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> (BIG WARNING: Jace may or may not die. There is no gory details or any details for that matter. But yeah.. sorry if you don't like Jace death.)

Placing his back against the frame of his open living room door, Magnus eyed Alec warily. The Shadowhuters shoulders were slumped as he sat on their couch, his back facing the Brooklyn skyline and his head in his hands, hair twisted in his fingertips. Magnus had made a promise to Alec that he intended to keep after they had restarted their relationship, that Alecs Shadowhunting would not affect their bond or their trust for one another. However, Magnus was beginning to worry ad he could no longer shelter that worry behind concerned eyes and soft touches. Alec had been sulking for days, tense and agitated, without even telling Magnus that anything was wrong and, thou he attempted to ignore it, Magnus couldn't stand the negative energy. Especially if Alec was hurting.

"Alexander?" Magnus begun, carefully. Speaking as though he had just entered the room when in truth he had been stood in the doorway for a solid two minutes. He begun approaching Alec slowly as if stepping towards a dangerous animal, knowing that he could be a little testy when he was in a bad mood. Alec lifted his head to look at Magnus, his smile was strained as he muttered a greeting. Magnus knew that Alec was only putting on a brave face so that Magnus would assume that things were fine and that he was ok. After making eye contact with Magnus, Alec went back to his original position defeated.

"Darling.. Is there something that's bothering you?" Magnus asked, advancing towards the taller man who, somehow, in this situation, looked so small. Magnus took a seat next to Alec, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder and retracting it slowly when Alec startled and flinched away. His whole body twisted away from Manus ad his arms covered his chest defensively, almost cowering. Magnus couldn't imagine the things his boyfriend had been exposed to In the past few days and frankly he didn't want to. When Alec saw that it was only Magnus beside him he calmed himself, apologising hastily and leaning into the Warlocks calming touch, practically laying on Magnus' lap, sprawled over the couch. Despite the seemingly relaxed position they were in, Magnus could still feel the tension in Alecs entire posture and actions.

"You're having a day off." Magnus stated, matter-of-factly. His hands replacing Alecs in his black locks. They had been torn and pulled all day and Magnus' excellent nibble fingers were helping the burn in Alecs scalp.

Alec, though calmed by Magnus' presence, stiffened in his embrace. Just the simple thought of leaving the institute and staying home with Magnus for an entire day terrified him. What if something happened while he was away and he could've helped stop it? What if he misses a major breakthrough with Valentine? In all of his years of being a Shadowhunter, Alec had never taken a single day off unless they had forced him due to sickness or injury. But, to voluntarily skip out on helping a mundane? Out of the question entirely.

Alec simply settled back into Magnus' arms, albeit uncomfortably. He closed his eyes and shook his head in one movement. A definite 'no'. Magnus sighed. Alecs health, mentally and physically, was degrading and the younger man needed to slow down, stop even. But Alec wouldn't listen, not even to his boyfriend. He believed that the job was far more important that his own wellbeing. For some weird and mysterious reason, Magnus didn't agree with that notion at all. He insisted countless times that Alec was far too important to let the job consume him, but the man wouldn't budge on his stance.

Thus, Magnus set out to convince him that he deserved a day off. That the world wouldn't spin off of its axis because Alec decided to stay in bed.

They stayed like that for most of the night, layed in each others arms and talking about anything other than demon activity or death. Magnus successfully distracted him by telling Alec about the one time that he had sat with the queen of France watching the stars and pretending to play baguettes like instruments. Alec had called him an idiot for that but more importantly, he laughed. His head falling back and the crinkles by his eyes showing themselves for a rare moment. Magnus made the conscious decision a while ago, that he would tell Alec any of the embarrassing stories of his past if it meant that he could see Alec laugh like this. If he could witness his hidden dimple and watch him giggle like there were no dangers outside.

Eventually, they both grew tired and agreed that it was probably about time that they moved to their bedroom. Their bedroom. It was still strange for Magnus to call it that after so many years of being alone but he was determined to get used to it. Magnus insisted on carrying Alec, bridal style, to their bedroom and Alec was too tired to put up a fight so he just clung onto Magnus' shoulders and tried not to worry about being dropped. Magnus used all of his strength (and was quite proud that he didn't have to use any magic) to pick Alec up and drag them both to his large bed for a nice sleep.

Little did Alec know, Magnus' plan had already been set into motion when they had settled themselves under the comfortable duvet. Alecs' arms around Magnus' waist was the comfort and security that Alec needed In that moment and in the morning he was going to be caught of guard. Magnus was a little worried how the morning would go, he knew that eventually Alec would be grateful but he was slightly concerned about the anger that would possibly come before the gratitude. Never the less, the two fell asleep in each others arms and Alec knew that if he could always come back to Magnus each night, he would be able to face anything in the day. 

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Alec woke up the next morning to the faint smell of eggs and bacon coming through the bedroom door. The light coming in through the curtains made him squint slightly but Alec enjoyed the warmth. Magnus and Alec rarely had time to spend mornings together or have breakfast due to Alecs busy schedule, so, more often than not, Alec had to run off hungry and sad before Magus even woke up. This morning, However, it seems that Magnus had woken up before him ad even started breakfast like the angel that he was.

Just as Alec was about to pull the sheets off of his body and make his way to the kitchen, the smell got stronger and Magnus pushed the door open with his foot. The smallish tray full of food balanced precariously on his arms and he tried to navigate over clothes without tripping over the plush rug in the centre of the bedroom. Magnus successfully made it to the bed and placed the tray on top of Alec's legs, pecking him on the lips and rounding the bed to sit beside him.

"Breakfast in bed? What's the occasion?" Alec asked as he stuffed his face with a piece of bacon, smiling at Magnus while also staring at him with a look of suspicious. Magnus was definitely a romantic man but rarely did he ever go full lovesick puppy unless there was a special occasion. Or, unless the Warlock wanted something from him. Magus looked down at his nails nervously, trying to build up the courage to tell Alec the news. Alecs face grew more nervous as he chewed and watched Magus' eyes avoid is own.

"What is it Magnus?"

"I turned off your alarm... and your phone." Magnus sighed, bracing himself for the outburst. "You need to rest, Alexander and you aren't prepared to let yourself so I want to take care of you..."

Magnus cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable shout or scream or freak out from Alec. He knew that he had crossed the line a little by not letting Alec know about his plan but Magnus was sure that the taller man would not agree with him had he told him what he intended. Weirdly... the outburst never came. Alec didn't shout or jump up or storm out of the room, there was just silence. Magnus opened his eyes warily and squinted at the man in front of him, shocked by the smile on Alecs face.

Alec laughed a little, leaning over and kissing a still wide-eyed Magnus sweetly. Alec had done some thinking last night and had decided that Magnus was right, he did need a break. Alec had planned on waking up this morning and making breakfast for Magnus but it seemed the Warlock had beaten him to it. Magnus relaxed his tense shoulders when he realised that the two were on the same page and that Alec was far from angry with him. He could never be angry with Magnus, no matter how much he tried.

The two spent most of the day eating breakfast and snacks, cuddled up with each other in their bed . After they got bored of that, they visited a little bakery a few blocks away from their apartment and spent a few hours making their own savoury sweets and the rest of the day messing around (if you get my flow). When they finally got home in the late hours of the day, Alec finally switched on his phone and got a not-so-pleasant surprise.

13 miscalls from Izzy, 3 texts from Clary and an incoming call from Simon of all people. How the vamp had ever gotten his number, Alec had no idea but he was definitely worried so he answered anyways.

"What's up sim-"

"It's Jace!" Simon said in both relief and panic. He was so glad that Alec had finally picked up but he had no idea how to break the news to Jaces Parabati. Alec could here his sister I the background and told Simon to give her the phone as the Vampire was making no sense at all.

Izzy vice was shaky as she tried to piece together the words but luckily, Alec only had to hear three words to know exactly what was going on.  
"Jace is hurt."  
Alec had thrown his bakery snacks onto the kitchen counter. Not even telling Magnus what was going on before speeding out of the apartment. Leaving a flabbergasted and worried looking Magnus in his wake, not knowing what was wrong and feeling like Alec didn't exactly want him to help.

Alec had been gone all night and Magus was starting to get really scared, that was until the shadowhunter burst through the door to the apartment. He flew past Magnus yet again and straight to the balcony, pacing through the wind and dragging his hands through his hair. There were tearstains on his cheeks and his eyes were red. Magnus rushed towards him but stopped in his tracks when Alec turned towards him, his eyes burning with rage. He was angry and upset and Magnus was in the firing line.

"Why did I listen to you?" Alec grumbled, his hands turning to fists at his side, but knowing that he would never hit Magnus. No matter how angry Alec got, he would never hurt Magnus, but the hurt in his heart was too much to hold in

Magnus stared at him in shock, still not fully understanding why Alec was so upset. Magnus' eyes started to well up with tears as he thought about the magical day that the two had spent together.. now none of that seemed to matter.  
"Alec.. what.."

"Jace! He went on a mission on his own, trying to get to valentine, alone! And I wasn't there to help him because I was too busy spending the day making doughnuts and having sex! My Parabati is DEAD, Magnus! And I couldn't help... I should have been there to help.." Alec finished his little rant, fully sobbing and pushing past Magnus to their bedroom. Their bedroom. Alec slammed the door shoot and Magnus flinched at the sound it made.

He only wanted to spend a day with his boyfriend. Keep Alecs sanity in check and calming him down after a long week of hunting. He never intended for the night to end like this. Alec shouldn't have listened to him.. nobody should ever listen to him. Magnus was selfish for wanting to keep Alec away from the institute and away from his job.

Magnus just hoped that Alec wouldn't see him for the screw up that he is. Hopefully he'll forgive him and stay. Hopefully, he'll get the chance to see Alec laugh again.. but there was no chance that he would get Alec out of that bedroom for at least two days.


	34. Confessions -Nygmobblepot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its finally time for him to confess his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really rubbish and rushed so I'm sorry.

Oswald shuffled a few papers around on his desk, sighing and raking his hands through his hair. He knew that his job would give him power, but, Jesus Christ. Being the Mayor of Gotham was stressful. The tie around his neck had been loosened and he had blisters on both of his hands from writing 99% of the day. However the stress was lightened a little by the fact that Edward Nygma was his right hand man who had an incredible work load.

Edward paced a little outside Oswalds office, mumbling to himself out of nerves. He had finally gained enough courage to tell Oswald the truth but he was having the slightest of second thoughts. He knew he would have to tell Oswald eventually, but that didnt mean that it was easy in any way. The little voice in his head was yelling at him to “Just do it.” And “Stop being such a scardy cat about it.” Edward breathed in deep and shook his head, raising his fist and tapping on the door lightly.

Oswalds eyes moved from the forms that he was looking at to the large door on the other end of the room. He sighed, believing that it would be more work or some issue that Zsasz would bring him that he would have to deal with on top of everything else.

“Come in.” Oswald drawled, refocussing on his papers with absolutely zero interest of who it could be.

Edward, hearing the call of Oswald’s strained voice, pushed on the door and entered, attempting to seem normal. Upon discovering the source of the knock and seeing Ed, Oswald’s shoulders relaxed and a large smile spread over his face. He put down his work for the first time that day and stood up to greet the tall and anxious man.   
Edward calmed slightly at Oswald’s kind greeting before almost immediately feeling more nervous than before. In that moment, Edward realised how quickly he could accidentally ruin Oswald’s day in one sentence if this went bad. Oswald noticed Ed’s discomfort and offered him a seat before asking him what was wrong.

“You may want to close the door.” Nygma mumbled under his breath while lowering his head.

Oswald, who was close to sitting down, sent Edward a confused look. Why would he need to close the door? Never-the-less, Oswald trusted Ed and so he stood back up and walked briskly across the room to close and lock the giant wooden door. When Oswald got back to the table, he sat opposite his chief of staff and waited for Ed to tell him whatever he wanted to tell him.

“Well, Ed, what did you want to speak about? It must be important.”

Edward scratched his nails on the arm rests of the chair, tapping his feet rapidly and trying his best to ready himself for any and all responses Oswald would have. Ed had never wanted to have the feelings that he had, they just, one day, appeared and he could do nothing about it. He had tried. One day, he looked at Oswald, his best friend and co-worker, in a friendly light. However, the next day, when Edward looked at the smaller man, he felt himself notice every little thing about him. He was falling for him...

“Edward?” Oswald prompt, upon not hearing the mans story as he presumed he would after closing the door. Oswald was slowly beginning to worry about what exactly Edward had come here to tell him. Was it something terrible? Did he want to quit? What if their entire friendship and business was too much for Ed and it had made him hate the Mayor? 

“I.. I think.. I may have developed some form of emotions for you.. beyond friendship. I didn’t plan these feelings and im not sure how to get rid of them but.. i thought the best chance would be to tell you..”

Edward attempted to let it all out in one quick sentence. However, he ended up stumbling and pausing through out. The nerves that he felt were quite terrifying and were not an exactly familiar feeling. Ed kept his eyes trained to the floor, practically burning holes into the wood. His shoes were now apparently very interesting because Edward couldnt take his eyes off of them.

Oswald’s eyes widened and his breath hitched in his throat for a second. Edward’s admittance was not at all what Oswald had expected and frankly... Oswald wasn’t sure how to respond. The smaller man didnt exactly know whether or not Edward was comfortable with his feelings, or if he was prepared for what would come with them because, ultimately... Oswald felt the same. He had done for a while. Ever since making Edward his head of staff, the Mayor had developed feelings that, until now, he believed were only felt by himself. Every time Ed would enter his office, Oswald’s day was immediately brightened and the brown eyes of his were burned into Oswald’s dreams at night. 

“Well, i believe... i.. like you too.” Oswald whispered across the table, afraid that if he talked too late he would disrupt the entire thing and scare Edward away.

Edward’s head shot up to look into Oswald ‘s eyes, eager to know whether the Mayor was being honest or if he was playing a cruel joke. Upon seeing Oswald’s sincere, piercing blue eyes, Edward’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red. 

“Really?” Edward asked, leaning forward in his chair, having gained his confidence back. He placed his hands on the desk and tilted his head, trying his hardest to catch Oswald out because, he still believed that none of this was at all serious.

Now it was Oswald’s turn to blush, shuffling under Edward’s gaze and nodding to answer the taller mans question. He truely did feel the same way for Nygma and was sure that he would have to confess his feelings for Nygma first. Thankfully, Ed had more confidence and brevado than Oswald had so all that the Mayor had to do was admit that, he liked him too.

“Well in that case... we should get coffee, right?” Edward smirked through his suggestion, winking and then laughing when Oswald flushed and looked away immediately. 

“Edward Nygma, you are positively the most frustrating and wonderful person i have ever met. But, of course. Of course we can get coffee.”


	35. Sterek~ You should've said no.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles asks something from Derek but it doesn't exactly go well.
> 
> HEADS UP GUYS, THIS ONES HECKING SAD!

The loft was thick with awkward silence and everyone was sitting/standing perfectly still and being awfully quiet and cautious. Stiles eyes flickered from Derek's in front of him, to Scott and Lydia to the side of him and then back to Derek again. Stiles' palms were sweating profously and his fingers were tapping along his crossed legs repeatedly. Both he and Derek were sat on Dereks bed in his loft, while Lydia and Scott stood on the side of the bed, all silently waiting for what was about to happen. Stiles wanted to do this, he knew that he did, but wanting and doing are two very different things. 

Stiles distinctly remembered the painful moment about thirty minutes ago when he had asked Derek to be the one to do this for him. He could have asked Scott, he was the first person that came to mind, but at this moment in time, Stiles trusted Derek a little more than Scott. No offense to his best friend of over ten years, but Scott hadn't been entirely honest to Stiles in the past few weeks. He hadn't even told Stiles that the pack was hunting down a rival pack until the very last second. Derek had almost died. Stiles was just really thankful that what he had asked Derek, wasn't too much and the werewolf had agreed.

~Flashback~

Stiles knew for a fact that this was going to be far too much to ask as he knocked on the door of Derek's loft. He had only known Derek for little over a year and Derek isn't exactly the person you go to when you need a favour. It's safe to say that Stiles was not expecting this to work and wasn't counting on Derek being the one to do it for him. He had a slither of hope, though. Just a little.

Stiles was just about ready to run away from the impending rejection when the loft door slid open to reveal a very dishevelled and tired-looking Derek, who looked... less than happy with the interruption. Derek crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to why the teen was at his door. Stiles chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, looking up at Derek with a helpless and apologetic look on his face.

"Hey, Derek! Sorry for.. coming over without asking its just that.. you were the first person I thought of. Can I.. come in, sourwolf?" Stiles asked hopefully, gesturing past Derek into the loft.

Derek, assuming that this was something serious as opposed to Stiles' usual antics, moved to the side slightly and let Stiles past and into his home. The taller man closed and locked the door behind them, a habit that he had since he had returned to Beacon Hills. There is no such thing as being too careful. Derek turned around, leaning against the newly locked door and giving Stiles a pointed look. A gesture to get on with It and tell Derek what he was here to do.

Stiles awkwardly slinked over to the sofa on the other side of the room and sat down, motioning for Derek to come over and do the same. Derek raised his dark eyebrows, realising that this was more serious than he had originally expected and genuinely surprised that Stiles had come to him. The werewolf gladly strolled over to where Stiles was sitting, taking a second to smell the air around him out of curiosity. The man could immediately sense that Stiles was feeling an array of different emotions. Initially the scent was entirely nerves and anxiety which Derek could understand due to Stiles coming here to tell Derek something clearly important. However, there was a second scent that Derek could only describe as self-consciousness and fear, which the man couldn't entirely find a reason for and that worried him.

Upon sitting down, Derek turned his full body toward the smaller teen and in doing so, giving Stiles his full attention. Genuine concern clouded Derek's eyes that were currently piercing into Stiles'. Stiles shuffled slightly under his gaze and blushed a little. He wasn't entirely sure how he thought this interaction would go. Stiles hadn't even really thought about what would happen when he had Dereks attention, just expecting Derek to have turned him away at the door. Stiles cleared both his throat and his thoughts before preparing to ask Derek what he had been waiting for a while now. He couldn't have his feelings for Derek interfering in this particular moment, though that was all he could think about as he sat under Derek's patient yet intent gaze. 

"I want you to bite me." 

Stiles blurted the request out quickly before he ended up doing something he would have regretted. Derek was so still and his eyes were entrancing and his face was so close and Stiles had almost leaned in and bridged the gap and ruined everything with a simple kiss. He knew he had to get out of the lingering moment and so he rushed out the question without the finesse of any of the practice he had rehearsed before hand.

There was a thirty second pause of silence that Stiles could have sworn was a lot longer. It could have been thirty hours or days as far as Stiles was aware, all he knew was that it was a long pause. A bad pause. Derek sighed and looked away from the blushing, determined boy in front of him. Derek was not going to li, the idea of biting and turning Stiles gave the wolf inside of him some kind of primal rush. However, the sane and collected side of Derek was quick to calm himself down and erase that idea from his head. Stiles was asking a serious question and Derek wasn't entirely sure if the younger boy had fully thought it out.

"Are you sure about this, Stiles?"

Stiles nodded, enthusiastically. The teen was so sure of himself and didn't stop nodding until he felt Dereks hands on his shoulders, a calming yet surprising gesture. The taller man calmed Stiles' excited tremors and turned him towards himself, staring deep into Stiles' eyes in search of whether he knew.. truelly, what he was asking. Derek wanted to know whether or not Stiles was ready for this and actually wanted what he was claiming to want.

"Why?" Derek asked, not wanting to dive into this head first without any reasoning. Not wanting to throw caution to the wind and certainly not wanting to hurt Stiles in any way.

"I'm tired." Stiles admitted, looking away from Derek's burning eyes, sheepishly.  
"I'm tired of not being on the same level as the rest of the pack physically, and, before you say anything, I know that I am an important part of the pack. That even though I don't have any 'special abilities' I still contribute and i'm still needed. I just want to be able to feel.. not so helpless when it comes to the actual fights. Everyone else has things to keep them safe and all I have is a stupid baseball bat and weak fists. I just... don't want to have to hide behind you guys all the time."

Derek sighed. He couldn't entirely argue with that. Stiles helped the pack in many ways but Derek could understand why he would want to help when it came to the gritty, violent fights that happened. He understood why Stiles didn't want to hang back and actually wanted to be able to protect and fight for the pack. Derek finally gave into Stiles' puppy dog eyes after thinking it over for a couple of minutes. He trusted Stiles enough to be sure that the teen knew what he was getting into and he genuinely believed that Stiles wanted to be like the rest of them.

"Ok." Derek finally said, shocking Stiles to the ends of the earth. He had never expected that Derek would agree.  
"But, we should probably call Lydia and Scott so that they... y'know, don't kill me when they find out..."

~Flashback over~

"Ok, Stiles. You know what's going to happen right?" Derek asked Stiles patiently, wanting to confirm what they had agreed to and wanting to make sure, for the hudereth time, that Stiles was sure.

"You're going to bite me and hopefully turn me into a werewolf." Stiles confirmed, his voice steady and calm.

"And.. everyone is okay with me doing this?" Derek asked, looking to his left and right in concern. He didn't want to do this without knowing that Stiles best friends were in agreeance.

Lydia, though very worried, smiled and sent a thumbs up Stiles' way. Stiles gladly returned the thumbs up and laughed lightly. Lydia's main plan in this situation was to show Stiles that she supported him, through anything that he wanted to do. Lydia had never suspected that her love for Stiles would turn from romantic to familial so quickly. However, now, stood a few feet away from him in a room where his whole life was about to change, Lydia felt like a proud sister. She knew that she would support Stiles though out it all and she hoped Stiles knew that too.

Scott, on the other hand, was practically growling in Derek's direction. Derek knew that he would be able to take Scott on in a fight if he tried to get between himself and Stiles and tried to stop Stiles from getting what he wanted. However, he didn't want it to come to that. Derek shuffled slightly closer the Stiles and looked him directly in the eyes with a questioning gaze. Stiles had also, fortunately, noticed Scott's obvious discomfort.

"It's my life, Scott. I want this. I want Derek to do this and if you hurt him after he does, I will never forgive you." Stiles warned in a scarily calm and low voice before turning fully back to Derek and nodding. Scott scoffed and scuffed his shoes against the ground, muttering a 'whatever' before shutting up after receiving a stern look from Lydia.

Stiles removed his red hoodie and plain, white T-shirt, as Derek had told him to before everyone had arrived. The wolf had told him that the space between the shoulder and neck was the bast and safest place to bite when aiming to turn somebody. The teen tilted his head to the side before giving Derek a trusting, open look and finally closing his eyes and breathing calmly. Derek placed one had on Stiles right arm, to steady himself when it came to the actual biting but also to ground Stiles and comfort him. Reading the situation and hoping that he wasn't crossing any boundaries, Derek placed his other hand delicately on Stiles' waist. Derek sighed in relief when Stiles melted and relaxed into his touch, ignoring Scott's low growl.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked. His teeth were already revealing himself and his eyes had begun to burn a soft red.

"Yes." Stiles confirmed.

With that, Derek leant down and sunk his teeth into the exposed space of Stiles shoulder. Derek breathed through his nose as his teeth dug deeper into his friends skin, trying to keep hold of himself as Stiles leaned into the touch and rested his entire body in Derek's arms. The werewolf continued until he was sure that the bite was enough to enact its intended purpose. Derek gingerly licked the wound in an act to comfort the pain before pulling back, expecting Stiles to also sit up.

When Stiles stayed exactly in the place that he was in, nestled into Derek's hold, Derek's heart dropped a little. The werewolf hurridly pushed Stiles up a little to inspect the younger teen. The bite that Derek had made was still slowly oozing blood and his eyes were fully closed. His face had a look of contentment and happiness on it but the main concern of Derek's, however, was the fact that Stiles wasn't breathing.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice was quiet and shaky, a few tears welling in his eyes as he shook the boy lightly. There was a thick, heavy silence and Derek's heart fully broke in half when he realised that he... he was gone. Derek pulled the boy back into his chest and wrapped his arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. Derek hated the way that Stiles didn't hug back and that his lifeless body just laid limp in his arms.

Derek could faintly hear a horrifying scream from beside him that could only have been from Lydia and felt the strong hands of Scott, angrily trying to pull him away from Stiles but Derek couldn't let go. He wouldn't. He could hear Scott's voice yelling in his ears and vibrating around his head as he held onto Stiles' corpse.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

YOU KILLED HIM!

THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!

IF HE CAME TO ME, I WOULD HAVE SAID NO!

ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS SAY NO!!!

Derek bit his tongue. Not having the nerve or the power in him right now to fight back. He had lost his voice and his strength. How could Scott know how much this hurt?

Derek didn't even have the chance to tell Stiles that he loved him...


End file.
